


Bonded

by Chridder



Series: Bonded [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Character Development, Enemies to Lovers, Especially when you're dating your enemy, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), POV Kylo Ren, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Romance, Seriously Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Things take time, Unresolved Romantic Tension, becoming better people, relationships are hard, reyloweeklychallenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 250,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chridder/pseuds/Chridder
Summary: After Crait, the Resistance is all but decimated. It will take time before they regain the strength and numbers to be anything more than an annoyance to the First Order. In the meantime, the Force bond between Rey and the new Supreme Leader not only continues but grows. They begin to be able to see one another's surroundings, touch things... and as the bond grows, so does their relationship. Mutual distrust becomes begrudging acceptance. Then a strange sort of friendship. And then... well... ;)This is an EXTREMELY Rey/Ben centric Reylo story that almost exclusively focuses on moments when the bond brings them together. It is a SLOOOOOW burn. What can I say? I love character development.





	1. A Spinebarrel in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren struggles to sleep at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "sand." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!
> 
> This started as a series of one-shots that accidentally turned into a story, so expect the continuity to be a little rough here at the beginning. I think I'll get better as I go along but I'm continuing to follow a one-shot style where each chapter can be read and enjoyed individually (though they'll become increasingly integrated as the story goes on). 
> 
> Think of these Force bond scenes as most of the times the Force brings Rey/Ben together, but not necessarily all of the times. I imagine the bond bringing them together roughly every two weeks (I know, I know... this is different from the movie. Let's just say the Force decided to take a more slow and steady approach after the TLJ debacle)
> 
> Since this story focuses the bond and the evolution of Rey and Ben's relationship, there won't be much development of other Star Wars characters, just guest spots now and then.
> 
> Also, while I try to keep this story in canon, I'm a casual Star Wars fan, which means sometimes I play fast and loose with Force abilities, the lore, etc. Star Wars nerds, don't hate me!
> 
> Happy Reading!

The room is pitch black and silent.

Kylo Ren doesn’t notice the low hum of the ship all around him. He’s become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t even register as noise. He’s lying flat on his back on the mattress, uncovered except for a loose pair of pants. He sighs, turning to his side.

This is the worst part of his day. It always is.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours… sometimes he doesn’t sleep at all. Sometimes he just stares into blackness all night, fighting unwanted thoughts.

Or giving in to them.

He shifts again, angry at himself, angry at his lack of self-control.

These idle minutes are like a minefield… He doesn’t have to worry about it during the day, not since his responsibilities as Supreme Leader eliminated the concept of “free time.”

But nothing can eliminate this, the agonizing period between work and sleep.

Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren. Supreme Leader of the First Order. A man with unparalleled power. A man equally worshipped and feared.

Now a man who can’t seem to pass a minute alone without thinking about her.

The scenes play involuntarily in his mind. Her body stiffening, her back to him, the curve of her slender neck only just visible in the moonlight… “I’d rather not do this now.” Her cheeks stained with tears as she asked him why he killed his father. Her eyes in the elevator… wide and burning with intensity. The way she confidently stepped towards him, the way her gaze locked onto his.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shifting angrily in his bed.

That’s when it hits.

A warmth rising from within, a low, gentle burn starting at his core and stretching out into his limbs. It takes a second before he recognizes the feeling, but when he does, he tenses, bracing himself.  For a moment, the sound around him mutes.

Then something unexpected happens.

The environment changes, the crisp coolness of his quarters replaced by an oppressively dry heat.

His eyes fly open.

Bright rays of sun pierce his pupils. He squints, adjusting to the light. He’s lying on a sand dune, irritating granules sticking all over— to his hands, his back, his hair. He sits up, confused, brushing off his arms and shoulders. As he does, an unexpected gust blows sand in his eyes. He groans, annoyed, and rises to his feet. The hot grains burn him. The unforgiving rays bear down on his pale, uncovered skin.

He looks around and is greeted by endless miles of sand stretching out in all directions. Sand to the right. Sand to the left. Sand just ahead. And behind him…

Rey.

He freezes.

This is new. Being able to see her surroundings, feel them as if he were physically with her in this space. The bond is growing… Snoke might have engineered it, but now it seems beyond anyone’s control.

She knows he’s here, but she doesn’t turn. She’s sitting back on her calves a few paces away, shoulders hunched, head bowed.

She’s ignoring him. Since Crait, this is how both of them deal with the bond. One can sense the other is there but simply doesn’t engage. They just wait in silence, avoiding eye contact at all costs until the other fades away.

Why talk? There’s nothing to say. She made her choice. He sensed her resolve, in the throne room and since. He’s not going to waste his time on a lost cause. Just because the bond keeps bringing them together doesn’t mean they have to actually _speak_ to each other or even acknowledge the other’s presence.

Of course, that was much easier when he was in his own surroundings and not hers.

He sighs, retaking a seat in the sand behind her. He straightens, closing his eyes, trying to meditate, shut out the world around him.

But instead, her emotions pour into him like a flood.

Pain. Disappointment. A gnawing loneliness so deep it makes him ache with a heavy, empty feeling.

She’s found her parents. What’s left of them, at least.

He twitches with a twist of regret as he recalls how he broke the news to her. Tact has never been his strong suit…

But it was something she needed to hear. She’s spent a lifetime chasing ghosts when she should be forging a better future for herself.

 _But she just can’t let it go_. Clearly.

He offered her the galaxy. He offered her a chance to become something much more than a scavenger, a chance to achieve her potential.

But she rejected it in favor of a dead end.

He pushes out an exhale, hardening his jaw.

He just needs to maintain a modicum of equilibrium until the bond ends. Which it will. Any minute now.

He takes a breath, trying to clear his mind. He looks anywhere but at Rey.

And that’s when he sees it.

At first, he thinks it’s a mirage. It’s too improbable he’d find something like this in such a barren, sand-choked wasteland. He pushes himself up and walks towards the faint image, just a small speck in a sea of tan-colored dunes. As he gets closer, he realizes that his eyes aren’t fooling him… the image is real. He crouches down to inspect it.

A small flower grows, dusty pink with a think bud and wiry stem. A solitary sign of life, surrounded by nothing. Its existence, its ability to survive in these conditions is nothing short of a miracle.

He reaches out tentatively.

If sand sticks to him as though he’s actually here, then he should be able to touch it…

His fingertips graze the petals. They feel tough and course. He slides his hand down the stem, then grips it tightly, pulling. The roots run deep, so he has to break the stem at the base. He rises, eyes fixed on the flower in his palm.

 _Very_ _interesting_.

He can’t help but wonder… if the flower is in his hand when the bond fades, could he take it with him? He burns with curiosity. The concept of a Force bond is nothing new, but this bond with Rey? It’s already stronger than anything he’s ever heard of. His instinct is to test its limits, see what he can do through it.

Yet there’s another instinct. A deeper one.

He glances at Rey. She's still seated back on her calves, shoulders hunched, head bowed. He looks down at his hand.

His rational brain tells him not to move, to stay where he is. _Do not engage._

But he turns in spite of himself. He turns and begins to walk towards her.

He can’t say why. Maybe it’s the situation. Maybe it’s harder to ignore her in her own surroundings. Maybe it’s just the way she feels right now. So lonely… So lost….

The sand crunches softy under his feet as he approaches. Rey stiffens as he gets closer, bracing herself. He stops beside her, looking down.

This isn’t a grave. It’s just bits of bone peeking out from the sand.

He crouches next to her. He’s not sure if her eyes are closed or open. Her chin is tucked, her face turned down.

A minute passes. Neither of them move. Neither of them say anything.

Then, very slowly, he reaches out and places the flower among the human remains.

Rey lifts her head slightly. She extends a hand to the flower, taking it to bring it closer. He feels her change, that gnawing, empty feeling interrupted by the subtlest warmth. She brushes the petals with her fingertips.

Her face is visible now, soft and curious. She studies the flower, seeming lost in memories. She presses a petal between a thumb and index finger, feeling its thickness. Finally, she places the it back on the sand-swept bones.

She takes an uneven breath, a single tear forming in the corner of her eye. It slides down the curve of her cheek, lingering at her chin before dripping to the sand.

Suddenly, she looks up, catching him off guard.   

For the first time since Crait, their eyes lock.

She has that same look from the elevator, the same intensity— focused and full of emotion. He loses himself in those clear, brown wells. A part of him wants to look away… but another part relishes the moment, this feeling so foreign he hardly recognizes it.

Humanity. Connection. An empathy so deep it aches.

His chest tightens.

It hurts… to want someone so much. To have her right before him— wisps of hair sticking to her forehead, soft, full cheeks, delicate features.

And yet to be worlds apart. In mind. In personality. In perspective. In everything but heart.

He blinks.

Or maybe she does.

Either way, he’s no longer in the desert of Jakku. He back on Supremacy in his own quarters, shrouded in blackness.

He’s crouching on his bed, motionless. He stays like this for a minute, readjusting to the surroundings.

Then, he sits back, stretching out his legs and lying on the mattress.

His skin feels hot from the sun. Granules of sand stick to his feet. He sees her in his mind’s eye, looking up at him, cheeks wet with tears.

He sighs, rolling to his side as he accepts the inevitable.

Another sleepless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have time, please leave a comment. Your feedback is very appreciated fuel to my writing. Like what you're reading? Want to read more? Then let me know what you think!
> 
> NOTE: While I love hearing feedback, please reserve critical feedback, even if it's constructive, until I finish the story. I KNOW that there are problems with this story and that readers who leave critical feedback are doing it from a place of love and a desire to improve my writing. But I'm new to fiction (The Chosen One, my other fic, was the FIRST story I'd ever written in my life). This means I'm really sensitive and tend to second guess my choices a lot. I REALLY REALLY want to be able to finish this story, so if you will, please cheer me on until I reach the finish line, then help me look back and assess my performance. 
> 
> Thanks for your understanding!


	2. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Chewie receive unexpected visitors while scavenging for supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "first blood."
> 
> I got the idea for this story from this tumblr post: http://postedbygaslight.tumblr.com/post/172459727107/kyber-crystals-and-force-bonds-just-a-brief?is_liked_post=1 ("Kyber Crystals and Force Bonds")

The sound of blaster fire fills the hanger.

Rey’s crouched next to Chewie behind a crude barricade, stacks of miscellaneous junk that’s been gathering dust for decades in this abandoned rebel base.  

The equipment here is so out of date it’s barely functional. But these days, the Resistance takes what they can get…

After Crait, they had to get creative. Desperate for supplies, the General sent out small crews to old rebel bases to scavenge for anything that could be useful, a task for which Rey is particularly well-suited.

They have what they came for. The Falcon’s packed with odds and ends she and Chewie collected over the past couple days. They were just getting ready to leave when a unit of Stormtroopers burst into the hanger.

The Falcon isn’t far behind. They need to make a run for it.

There are about twenty troopers, less now that she and Chewie took some of them out. But aerial reinforcements can’t be far…

They need to get out of here. _Now_.   

If they both race to the ship, they’ll be riddled with blaster fire before they get halfway there. But if one of them runs for it while the other distracts the troopers…

“Chewie, go!” Rey nods towards the Falcon.

Chewie baws in protest.

“ _GO!_ ” She repeats. “If one of us doesn’t get out now, neither of us will.”

Chewie baws again, refusing to leave.

“I’m not going to die. I’ll distract them long enough for you to take off, then I’ll fight my way out and call you.” She touches her commlink at her side.

He cocks his head, doubtful.

Rey rolls her eyes.

“We don’t have time for this. _GO!_ ” She reaches for the lightsaber attached at her hip.

This one isn’t Luke’s. It’s green and double-sided. Maz got it for her. It doesn’t feel quite right, but it’s better than nothing.

She ignites the weapon and leaps over the barricade, immediately Force-pulling a stack of crates onto a group of troopers. Rey lunges towards the others, lightsaber twirling around her, easily deflecting a barrage of blaster fire.

It’s strange… this feeling, moving so quickly but perceiving everything as though it were slowed. She can sense every action before it happens. She knows where every plasma shot will land before it even leaves the blaster.

She strikes an attacker across the shoulder, another across the thigh, then somersaults high in the air, landing atop of a towering stack of crates. She instantly jumps off, Force-pushing the crates onto the troopers before she hits the ground. She waves a hand, tossing the crates across the hanger, knocking down troopers who just managed to stand.

The Falcon jets out of the hanger as she charges forward, deflecting blaster fire and slashing at the limbs of attackers. She flips and somersaults, tucks and rolls, dives and sidesteps, moving so fast she seems to be in two places at once. The troopers surround her and yet they can’t touch her. She’s too quick, too good at dodging— they just can’t _pin her down_.

She Force-calls the blasters out of the hands of two troopers, smashing them against the wall. She kicks a crate into three more, throwing them off balance. She begins to lunge forward but suddenly stops cold.

The hanger falls silent. Dead silent.

No blaster fire. No kicking. No slashing. Only the hum of lightsabers.

The troopers stand unmoving, staring at something behind Rey. And she knows exactly who it is…

“I’ll take it from here.” His voice is calm but distorted.

The troopers file wordlessly out of the hanger, passing by Rey without a glance.

She waits a minute before turning.

He’s wearing a mask. He looks exactly as he did when she first saw him, as though nothing’s changed.

But many things have changed.

She sucks in a breath.

She’s not prepared for this. Seeing him again. _In person._

Since the Supremacy, she hasn’t thought about it. Or, rather, she’s avoided thinking about it. She knew she’d have to face him again eventually, but she assumed it would be far in the future, years even. With the Resistance as weak as it, she had no reason to think she’d ever cross paths with the Supreme Leader of the First Order.  

And yet here he is.

This is the first time they’ve seen each other since the throne room. Excepting the Force bond.

And that hardly counts. They just ignore each other.

Mostly.

But they certainly can’t do that now…

His saber glows red, fiery and unstable as though it could blow up in his hand. He cocks his head, examining her and stepping to the side. He begins to circle her, and she does this same, eyes fixed on that cold, blank mask.

The tension between them is thick. Neither of them particularly _wants_ to hurt the other, yet they both simmer with emotions ready to boil into aggression… Her anger at his choice in the throne room. His resentment of her rejection.

Kylo Ren whips his saber once at his side then lunges.

Rey meets him without skipping a beat, locking a green edge of her saber with his and pushing forcefully.

He thrusts forward, and she stumbles. He lunges again but she tucks and rolls behind him, springing to her feet to strike at his back.

He snaps around to catch the blow, then strikes at her left, her right. She dodges the first strike and meets the second.

Determined to take the offense, she advances, twirling her saber around her body, swinging towards his head, his shoulder, his core.

He leans away from some blows and deflects others, stepping back with a calmness that infuriates her, one arm tucked behind him. She rears back and thrusts at his chest, but he swats her away with a powerful flick of his blade.

“It doesn’t feel right, does it?” He takes a step away from her, creating some space between them. He swings his saber at his side, beginning to circle her.

She ignores the question, charging to strike.

Bursts of electric crackles fill the hanger as they thrash at one another, weaving around metal crates and junk strewn across the floor, Rey advancing on Kylo, Kylo advancing on Rey.

“The crystal in that saber…” He casually fends off blows. “It’s not yours. It’s not bonded to you. No matter how long you use it, it will never feel like yours.”

Rey grows agitated, fire prickling under her skin.

Why is he doing this? Talking down to her as though he were her master and she his student. _Why is he talking at all?_

She swings at his core but he catches the blade and thrusts upwards, green and red crackling against one another. He inches her blade to her skin, that cold black face bearing down on her. The heat’s so close it almost burns her, but she doesn’t back down.

“Need a mask to fight me, aye?” She pushes hard, moving the sabers closer to him.

Suddenly, he steps back, switching off his weapon.

She balks, surprised, as he walks calmly to the side, bringing his hands up to unclick and remove his mask. He sets it on a nearby crate, then turns.  

Rey instantly regrets goading him about the mask. Now that sees his face, the jagged scar cutting across his features, dark eyes strangely soft and vulnerable… She realizes she’d much rather fight him with it on.

“In the old days, the Jedi would take younglings to kyber mines in Ilum.” He walks towards her, arms behind his back. “They’d search for days until the right crystal called to them. The call is a bond. Once the child bonds with the crystal, she can use the Force to attune it to the energy cell in a lightsaber.” He stops a few feet in front of her. “But you aren’t bonded to that weapon.” He nods to the double-sided blade.

Rey rolls her eyes.

What is this, a fight or a lesson?

She lunges towards Kylo and he instantly ignites his saber, clashing with hers. He attacks with hard, precise strikes, and she fends him off, backing away. Suddenly, she somersaults over his head and takes the offense, swinging forcefully to his left, his right, again and again and again, bearing down _relentlessly_. Finally, she nabs his right shoulder.

He hisses as the blade sears his flesh.

“I don’t know.” Rey twirls her weapon smugly. “I seem to be doing pretty well with it.”

Kylo’s eyes darken. He shoots forward, raising his saber high and bringing it down hard overhead.

Rey ducks, stepping to the side, but he comes after her with full-throated fury, wild but practiced, swinging up, across, down. She struggles to fend off the blows, catching him just before he singes her thigh, her waist—

“ _GAH_!”

Rey grabs her left shoulder, just below a fresh lightsaber wound.

Now Kylo’s the one who looks smug.

She straightens, catching her breath.

She can’t win this fight. They’re too evenly matched. She’ll be here all day until he gets bored and calls in his troopers.

Unless she can distract him…

She looks down at his blade, red hot and surging with unstable energy.

“What about your crystal?” She nods at him. “Are you bonded to it?”

He brings the saber close to his face, looking conflicted, as though he were holding a gift from an enemy.

“That’s not how it works for us.” He doesn’t look up. “Dark siders don’t bond with their crystals. They impose their will on it, molding it to their purpose. The process is called bleeding. It’s why the saber turns red.”

He gazes at the saber, seeming lost in memories.

Rey grips her weapon, preparing to strike.

“This is my first blood. My first act as Kylo Ren.”

She loosens her hold.

“I took the crystal from my Jedi weapon and reformed it, bleeding it into this one.” He’s still examining it, dark eyes distant. “The crystal cracked but—” He whips it at his side, “that just made it more powerful.” He looks up, eyes narrowed in cutting pride.

Rey stares at him, softening. She switches off her saber and steps forward.

He lowers his weapon, guarded but curious.

“Does…?” She hesitates. “Does a Jedi’s bond with his crystal ever break?”

“Never.” He turns his head sharply.  

“Then… you were still bonded to that crystal when you bled it?” She raises an eyebrow.

He looks away.

“So… didn’t cracking it… hurt you?”

“ _No._ ”

She catches a subtle flinch when he says this.

Rey looks down, understanding what he left unspoken, what he outright denied.

It did hurt him. Cracking his crystal was an act of self-injury. First blood indeed…

Ben Solo’s. His own.

Rey takes a breath, then sighs it out.

She’s lost the appetite for a fight.

So has he, clearly, his weapon down at his side.

Her eyes slide to ignited saber, crackling softly. Out of nowhere, she fells a magnetic tug from within, drawing her to the crystal.

This weapon calls to her. Now that she thinks about it, maybe not for the first time. When she commanded it to her in Snoke’s throne room, it felt natural, _right_. She’s not sure why but… it feels like part of her in a way.

“It’s the bond.” Kylo says this as though he read her mind. “Ours. It means you share my bond with the crystal.” He tightens his grip on his weapon.

She grips her own saber but doesn’t ignite it.

They stare at one another for a minute, waiting for the other to make the next move.

Neither of them does anything.

Finally, Rey sighs and walks to a metal crate nearby.  She takes a seat, placing her saber next to her. She turns to Kylo, nonchalant, relaxed even. Only her eyes tease a provoking glimmer.

“So, what now?” She places both palms on the crate and leans back. “You take me prisoner? Execute me? Make an example of me?” Her tone is half mocking. She senses he has no intention of hurting her...

He grunts, switching off his saber as he turns away.

“It’s not like you to surrender so easily.” He strides to scoop up his mask from the crate. Then, he walks towards her.

Rey sits up, guarded. She eyes him closely as he approaches, then kneels just in front of her.

His eyes pierce hers, dark yet gentle. He reaches over, wrapping his fingers around her weapon then holding it up to her.

She takes it tentatively.

“As long as you’re fighting with this, it’s not a fair fight.” His eyes are fixed on hers, seeming to look into her and not at her. “I have no interest in that. When I defeat you, I want you to be wielding your own weapon.” He rises, bringing his mask overhead and clicking it into place.

He turns to exit the hanger.

“Find your own crystal,” he calls back in a distorted voice. “Not Luke’s. Not some other dead Jedi’s.” He turns when he reaches the opening. “Find _your_ crystal. Forge _your_ destiny. Don’t fall back on someone else’s.”

He strides away without looking back.

Rey watches him leave, stunned. She sits alone for a few minutes. Before long, she hears the sound of First Order ships taking off into the sky.

Then silence.

She looks down at the lightsaber in her hand. She slides her thumb down the hilt, feeling the warm metal. Then she reattaches it to her waist.

She rises and exits the hanger, grabbing her commlink and bringing it to her lips.

“Chewie? Are you ok?” She hears him answer on the other end.

“The coast is clear. Let’s get out of here.”

He baws in assent and she returns the commlink to her side. She puts her hands on her hips and sighs, looking up into the grey sky.

Rey feels unsettled, blood like pin pricks in her veins.

Her nerves are frayed from seeing him again. Not just seeing him, but actually having to _talk_ to him.

She’s tried not to think about him since Crait.

 _Tried_.

But she can’t help it. If she’s honest with herself, part of her is still shocked by how it all turned out. She was _so sure_ of what she saw when she touched his hand on Ahch-To, so certain he was on the cusp of turning.

But when the crucial moment arrived, he didn’t turn. Instead, he doubled down, gripped on to his delusions more tightly than ever.

He rejected the opportunity to admit the truth about himself, about the First Order. He rejected his true name.  

So mostly when she thinks about him, she feels angry. Angry at him for making the wrong choice. Angry at herself for believing he’d make the right one, for not seeing that he is still _very much_ Kylo Ren.

But today, she doesn’t feel angry.

It doesn’t make any sense. Seeing him again, being reminded of who he’s chosen to be… shouldn’t it _infuriate_ her?

It should. He’s still committed to his course. Still certain that _she’s_ the one who made the wrong choice. Such a lost cause…

He _should_ infuriate her.

But no. Now that’s she’s actually engaged with him, she feels more disappointed than angry.

Disappointed. And sad. Because today she was reminded of something she’s desperately tried to forget…

Ben Solo’s still in there. He’s suppressed, subjugated, dominated by Kylo Ren.

But he’s still there. Still fighting to break free.


	3. Junk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tries to fix a combat speeder brought in by a Resistance scavenging team and receives an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "speeders."

“Hey Chewie, can you hand me the half-sized torque wrench, the one with the red hilt?”

Chewie baws back at Rey, asking her to hold on for a minute.

“Take your time,” Rey replies absently, examining the inner workings of the speeder just above her.

She’s lying flat on her back on a creeper, the gritty floor crackling under the wheels as she moves slightly further under the wide vehicle.

God, this thing is old. Older than her by _several_ years. It’s an FX-40 combat speeder, made to traverse rocky, uneven terrain. A scavenging team just brought it and a couple of land cruisers from Florrum. None of them work properly, which is a problem considering that no one’s produced parts for these models in over a decade. But these days, the Resistance takes whatever they can get. Rey’s just going to have to get creative…

She squints her eyes and purses her lips, scanning the engine thoughtfully.

To most people, the splay of tubes and wires above would be inscrutable, a complete mystery. But Rey reads it like a native speaker of the language. Not only does she understand how these parts work together to form a whole but she has an almost instinctive sense of the different ways they could be taken apart and put back together— the endless options for modifying, tweaking, enhancing…

Chewie interrupts her thoughts, calling out to her as he clinks the wrench against the speeder. She pushes and rolls closer to him. She can only see his ankles and feet from under wide vehicle.

“Thanks, Chewie,” she calls out as she grabs the tool. The Wookie baws mournfully, complaining about his empty stomach.

“Don’t feel like you have to stick around on my account,” Rey tells him. “Go. Get yourself a second lunch.”

Chewie readily agrees, asking if she’d like a snack as he shuffles away.

“No, but thanks anyway. Take your time. I’m gonna need a while with these thrusters.” She hears the door close behind him. She sighs, looking up at the engine, trying to decide what to do.

The thing is, she knows what she has to do. Two of the three thrusters are flat out beyond repair. I mean, _it’s possible_ she could get them working again if she replaced the motors, but the problem is that their connection to the repulsorlift is completely shot. Rey’s learned the hard way that’s the death knell for a thruster. The connection has to be precise or else the thrusters will randomly cut in and out. If you’re just hauling finds from a scavenging mission, that’s an inconvenience. But if you’re trying to outrun First Order speeder bikes…?

No. Rey can’t risk a Resistance fighter’s life for the sake of saving resources.

The thrusters have to go. She brings the wrench up and begins removing the bolts from one of them. As she works, she considers her options.

Try as she might, she can only see one option. With any other vehicle, the solution would be simple. Replace the thrusters. But this thing is so damn old that not only are these specific thrusters almost impossible to come by but so are others that would be compatible with the repulsorlift. Speeder parts are so much smaller these days. There’s just no way to get the newer models to connect with these old, clumsy ones. So that means she’ll have to replace the whole engine— install a new repulsorlift and new thrusters. And at that point, she might as well call it quits and label this whole thing junk to be ripped up for parts.   

Rey shifts to the right, making space for the thruster she just detached. She shoves it towards the end of the speeder and starts working on the other one.

There _has got_ to be another way— an option she’s not seeing. As she loosens the bolts on the second thruster, she runs through a catalogue in her mind. So far, she’s just been thinking about speeders. But is there a part she can take from something else? Something not intended for this purpose, but will still do the job?

 _Come on, Rey_. You can do better than this. Figure it out.

She’s been here many times before. It really isn’t that complicated. All it requires is patience. If she lies here long enough, staring at the problem, thinking of the infinite options for solving it, eventually the pieces will fit together.

She dislodges the thruster and begins to shift to the right again. As she does, she starts to feel a bit strange, weak even. An eerie sensation creeps from within, vaguely familiar at first and then…

 _No…_ surely not?

She drops the thruster and it crashes to the floor with a loud clang. Rey shoves it towards the other one and quickly lays back on the creeper, giving a hard push to roll out from under the vehicle. She sits up swiftly and twists around to the right, to the left.

She stiffens and pushes the air out of lungs.

He’s standing just a pace away, arms crossed, head cocked, looking down at her with curiosity.

This is getting old. _Really_ old. Shouldn’t the bond have died with Snoke? Why is this still happening? You’d think at the very least it would have faded. But no… instead it’s _growing._

He breaks his gaze and begins looking round the room. He purses his lips thoughtfully, then uncrosses his arms to reach towards a wrench lying on a stool. He picks it up.

Rey sucks in a breath.

Case in point. Used to be, he couldn’t see her surroundings. Or touch them. But the last couple of times, he’s been able to.

She hasn’t seen his surroundings yet, which strikes her as suspiciously unequal. She’s starting to wonder if he’s learned to control this connection…

“What are you doing?” His question interrupts her thoughts.

“None of your business,” she replies coldly.

He’s unfazed by this response, turning to walk past her to the right, continuing to inspect the lot cramped with tables and saws and tools, several dislodged engines, a couple of other speeders, racks of wires, and endless piles of junk scattered about. He looks down when he gets to the end of the speeder and kicks one of the thrusters she just removed.

“Two out of three down.” His tone is patronizing. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Those aren’t good odds.”

“Groundbreaking analysis,” she replies with a deadpan expression. “Thanks for that.” She flings herself back onto the creeper and pulls herself under the speeder once more.

She can ignore him. She’s done it before. He’ll go away eventually.

Now where was she…

“This model is quite old, you know.” He continues to speak while walking around to the other side of the speeder. She can only see his boots. “I can’t think of a manufacturer that makes parts for it anymore. Maybe SoroSuub? It’s doubtful though.” His footsteps pass by her head.  

Rey rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring at the problem above her.

“You could _try_ to fit in a thruster from a newer model but most likely it won’t be compatible with repulsorlift. The old ones are so much bigger.”

Rey sucks in a breath and grits her teeth. His footsteps pass by her head again, walking the other way now. She hears him crouch at the end of the speeder and inspect the old thrusters.

“These aren’t in terrible shape… you could just replace the motors and it could keep it going for another— ah. No. The connect to the repulsorlift is warped.”

Rey grips a skinny pipe above her with both hands, holding her breath, hardening her jaw. She will not say anything. She will not be baited. She just has to be patient. Any minute now, he’ll disappear…

He stands up and begins walking back to the front. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have to take out the last thruster. The repulsorlift too. The whole engine needs to be replaced.”

Without thinking, she pushes forward and her head flies out from under the speeder.

He looks down at her with the hint of a smirk, clearly pleased to have provoked a reaction.

“Hey. You know what? I don’t need your help. I built my own speeder when I was twelve years old. It’s one of a kind. There’s not another like it in the galaxy. I know what I’m doing.” She pulls herself back under the speeder just as quickly as she emerged from it.

“Besides, when’s the last time you did anything resembling manual labor?” she calls out to him as an afterthought. “I’d take engineering advise from Ewok before I took it from y— _Hey_!”

As she was speaking, he’d walked the other side of the speeder and is now pulling himself under it right next to her.

“ _Hey_! Are you listening to me?” she asks him exasperated as he pulls himself further. “This is a one-person job. I don’t need your help.” He stops when his head is next to hers. She rolls slightly to her side, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. He doesn’t look at her but directly up into the engine.

He clicks his tongue again. “I don’t know, Rey. Now that I see it, I think you’re going to have to give up on this one.”

Rey lies back on the creeper, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“I thought this was FX-58, but no this one’s even earlier than that.”

She sighs, defeated.

“The repulsorlift in these has what’s called axiom port.” He reaches up to touch the connector.

 “Do you often find yourself giving unsolicited advice? Explaining things to people that they didn’t ask you to explain?” Rey turns her head to look at him pointedly. He ignores her, still fixed on the engine.

“An axiom port connects to the thruster with three chips. Most thrusters produced in the last decade connect with two.”

“Because if you do, and you also find that people tend to avoid you, well… I’m not saying there’s a _direct_ correlation, but—”

 “You could try to make it work with just two,” he cuts her off. “But the connection needs to be very precise, especially in a combat cruiser. You can’t have the thrusters giving out in a high speed chase. Not that this thing could ever outrun a First Order speeder in the first place.”

Rey narrows her eyes in anger. She considers giving him a hard shove, but since she’s still on the creeper, she’d just be pushing herself back.

“This thing is junk,” he declares definitively. “Fodder for parts. At least the one working thruster is the main one. That means it has an ether port to power a scrambler, when people still needed those. You might could use it to power a long range trans—”

“Shut up a minute!” Rey commands suddenly. She rolls her head back on the creeper, looking up thoughtfully for a moment. Then she starts sliding off it towards him.

“ _Move._ You’re in my way,” she orders impatiently. He slides to the side, making room for her. She needles his side with her elbow, goading him to keep moving until she can see the back of the main thruster. She inspects it closely. Then a smile slowly spreads across her face.

“I can power the thrusters through here.” She looks over at him, eyes glittering with triumph.

“No, you can’t.” Kylo shakes his head. “There’s no thruster anywhere that connects to an ether port.”

“ _No_.” Rey responds forcefully. “But I can take the sensory adapter from a V/C unit and use it as a convertor. It has an ether port on one side and BNC ports on the other. And I’ve got several working thrusters that’ll connect to a BNC port.” She nods her head decisively, still looking up.

“That’ll do it.” She looks over at Kylo with a smug expression.

“He raises an eyebrow and shifts his head slightly, conceding. “I… don’t see why not.”

Rey brings her hands behind her head and rests back on the hard floor, feeling immensely pleased with herself.  

For a minute, neither of them speak. Rey just relishes in her victory, thinking about which thrusters she’ll use. Suddenly her thoughts halt as something occurs to her.

“You know…” she starts tentatively. “To be honest, I’m surprised you know as much as you do about this stuff. I mean, I’m assuming don’t sit around repairing old-as-dirt speeders with the First Order. Where’d you learn about this?” Rey looks over at him. He immediately looks away.

She senses his emotions darken sharply. His heart drops. Hers does too when the realization hits.

_Han._

Of course, it was Han.

She looks back up into the engine, taking a deep breath. They both lie next to one another quietly for a minute.

“It seemed like he had a place like this on every planet.” Kylo breaks the silence abruptly. “Just some lot or hanger absolutely _filled_ with junk.” He shakes his head incredulously, still looking up. “He was sentimental in the strangest way. He couldn’t get rid of anything, especially if he’d won it in a bet. Even if it was useless to him, he’d still store it somewhere. Or rip it up for parts and store the parts somewhere.” Rey feels him twist with complex emotions— irritation mixed with longing.

This is… unexpected. Why is he telling her this? She’s tempted to ask him but stops herself. Instead, she turns on her side towards him and listens.

“Working with him was a nightmare,” he continues. “He was so disorganized. Well… he would argue that he knew _exactly_ where everything was, which was bullshit, of course.” He glances over at her. “So whenever he asked me to fetch something for him, I’d take too long to find it and he’d get frustrated. He’d crawl out from under whatever he was working on, all angry and imperious, and then _he_ wouldn’t be able to find it either.” He scoffs, smiling wryly.

“One time on Corellia, we spend _five hours_ looking some one-of-a-kind power cell from a V-wing aircraft he’d won off a Rodian bounty hunter. We never found it.” He lets out a half-laugh. “Instead we ended up throwing together what’s quite possibly the most ill-constructed jumpspeeder in the galaxy.” His face falls solemn.

“We didn’t make it one mile before it broke down. And he forgot his commlink, so we had to walk. It was pitch black by the time we got back.” He holds his breath, perhaps without realizing it. Then lets it out slowly.  

Rey bites her lip. The question is on the edge of her tongue. She’s dying to confront him with it. After all, he never did give her an honest answer on Ahch-To. Instead he deflected.

_Why did you kill your father?_

He didn’t hate him. If he did, she would surely sense that now. But no… he’s feeling something more complex than hate. Resentment. Regret. Shame. Yearning.  

Finally, he turns his head to look at Rey. He shifts onto his side as well. They both lay on their sides under the speeder, facing one another, heads resting on an arm, eyes locked.

This is it. This is the moment to ask. He can tell she wants to… she feels him brace inwardly, preparing for it.

But the question never comes. She can’t bring herself to do it. It just seems… cruel somehow. Like rubbing salt in an open wound.

He deserves it. He deserves to be confronted with his despicable choice, to feel the sting of self-inflicted loss, to be crushed under the weight of that moment on Starkiller. 

But something tells Rey that he’s already in that hell.  

So instead of asking the question, she stares softly back at him. He relaxes slightly when he realizes she doesn’t intend to rebuke him. His eyes soften as well.

They stare at each other wordlessly, and just for a moment, the complex palette of emotions between them blends into something very simple. Something pure.

Compassion.

They lose themselves in a deep, mutual gaze, the kind that almost makes them both forget who they are. It’s so intense that Rey snaps back, disoriented, when he suddenly disappears before her.

Gone without a trace. Like he was never here.

Her heart starts to feel heavy. Her stomach uneasy. She lies back and begins to pull herself out from under the speeder. Once she does, she pushes herself up with her palms and sits back cross-legged on the dirty floor, shoulders hunched over, staring down into nothing.

She can’t seem to make herself move. She just sits… consumed by this churning inside of her.

Rey would love nothing more than to think of Kylo Ren as just a villain. Her enemy. The destroyer of lives and livelihoods. The bane of this galaxy. The killer of her friends.

He is all of those things. But that’s not all he is.

 _This damn bond_. It keeps reminding her that underneath it all, buried not too deep, is just a person. A lonely person. A lost person. A broken person.

The way he spoke to her just now… sharing memories of his father as if she were an old friend. He’s so desperate to have someone to talk to. So tired of hiding heartbreak under a cold exterior. Rey swore that she’d never allow herself to feel compassion for him again…

She sighs.

Today, she broke that promise. She couldn’t help it.

She squeezes her eyes shut, the emotions in her belly beginning to churn more violently.

It hurts. It eats at her, gnaws at her, a twisting, aching realization.

That one day, all of this is going to come to a head. One day, she’ll have to face him again, just as she did on Starkiller.

And she’ll have to cut him down for good.

 


	4. No Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo confront one another with their worst fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "fear."

Thick black boots click in a brisk pace against the grey floor of the starship.

A small unit of Stormtroopers disperses, stepping frantically to the side to let the tall black-clad figure pass between them.

Kylo Ren doesn’t acknowledge their presence. Nor anyone else’s. He might as well be the only living thing on this ship, the way he storms through the halls like he owns them.

Technically, he does. Now that he’s Supreme Leader, he owns all of it, the whole First Order complex and the systems under its control.

A couple of officers halt abruptly and change course when they see his dark figure heading swiftly in their direction. He smirks under his mask.

Good.

Now more than ever, it’s important that people fear him. That’s one reason he’s taken to wearing a mask again— intimidation. That and to conceal his face. Because he must appear as more than just a man… he must appear as Supreme Leader. The most powerful living thing in this galaxy. The ultimate authority. Above question. Above challenge.

Though… he must admit. Being Supreme Leader isn’t exactly how he imagined it.  

Snoke was forever complaining about incompetence— the generals, the commanders, the operators, the field agents… the list was endless. Now, Kylo Ren knows why.

Case in point— the Garos debacle. Right now, thousands of natives have barricaded themselves inside the planet’s mines to keep the First Order out of them, mines _they need_ to finish the construction of Starkiller 2. And why has this happened?

Incompetence.

For all his boasting of strategic prowess, Hux has an appalling lack of foresight. _Of course_ the natives of Garos would protect their planet’s most valuable resource by any means necessary. What did Hux think would happen? That he could just show up with the might of the First Order at his back and the whole planet would cow to him? “Yes, please… take it all, sir. No need for reparation. Never mind us. We’ll just waste away and die here.”

What a simple-minded idiot. He’s dead set on a “blasters and blood” tactic, striking with lightning speed and maximum casualties. The idea is to scare everyone into submission, show them how outmatched they are, how futile it would be for them to fight back.

Clearly, no one learned a damn thing from the fall of the Empire.

The better strategy would have been to approach the owners of the mines, make a deal, even continue to let them run the extraction. This would be more expensive, but more efficient. But Hux isn’t interested in efficiency. He’s only interested in pushing his own vision of the First Order by whatever means necessary.

Kylo grits his teeth as he walks, clenching his fists.

He slows his pace as he nears his quarters. He stops to enter the security code, and the door whirs open. The lights turn on as he enters the room. He removes his mask, placing it on a column to his right. He pulls off his gloves absently as he walks to his bed and sinks down on the mattress, still lost in thought.

No, being Supreme Leader isn’t like he thought it would be. He had assumed he’d feel more in control. Instead, he feels the opposite. Before, his work was focused. Now, there are so many moving parts, so many things to keep track of. He can’t help but always feel a vague sense of fear that he’s missing something… somewhere, there’s something going on right under his nose, something that will undo him. _But he can’t see it_ …

That sick feeling his gut lingers, then strangely grows into something else. Suddenly, he stiffens. He grips the edge of the mattress, sitting perfectly still. He knows what this is. He knows what comes next.

_Shit._

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his mind.

When he opens them, Rey is standing just ahead, one hand on her hip, eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and interest. He straightens and stares back evenly.

After a few seconds, she breaks her gaze, taking a step forward. She looks up and around, curiously taking in the scene.

Kylo pushes the air out of his lungs slowly and deliberately, as if doing so will purge him of the emotions rising to overtake him.

No luck. He still feels that tension, that contradictory pull of being instinctively drawn to her yet angry at the unwelcome attraction.

He narrows his eyes, watching her, feeling uncomfortable and exposed as she inspects the room.

It was inevitable this would happen. The last couple of times the bond brought them together, he could see her surroundings, interact with them as though he were physically there. He knew it wouldn’t stay unequal for long. And he’s been dreading it.

Rey walks over to the column by the door, hand extending towards the mask on top of it.

“ _Don’t touch anything_ ,” he growls reflexively. She jerks back with a slight flinch, startled. But her expression quickly changes. A hint of challenge flashes across her eyes as she reaches out again.

“You mean like this?” She slips her fingers under the front edge of the mask and picks it up.

He rises and strides over swiftly, eyes fixed coldly on hers. He yanks the mask out of her hand, still glaring, then sets it firmly back in place. She glares back at him, guarded. He pauses for a moment, looking down at her with a warning in his eyes.

Then he turns to wordlessly retake his seat.

“You’re in a mood,” she says, crossing her arms. She tilts her head and eyes him thoughtfully.

He freezes. The bond… it makes it easier for her to pick up on his emotions. He wouldn’t be surprised if it makes other things easier as well. He must be careful. _Vigilant_. He needs to keep her from getting inside his head.

“It’s not…” she starts and pauses as if taking a moment to read him. “Being Supreme Leader, is it?” She finishes finally. “Is the throne not all it’s cracked up to be?”

At this, he shoots up and immediately strides to the opposite end of the room, his back to her.

 

This is _exactly_ what he was afraid of.

He crosses his arms tightly and takes a deep breath, clearing his mind, shoring up his mental defenses. He must keep her _out_. At all costs.

Suddenly, he hears her shuffle around behind him. He stands still, resisting the urge to glance over at her. She shuffles around some more before he hears a soft rustling.

_Did she just get on his bed?_

He turns his body half towards her.

_She did._

 

She’s sitting cross-legged in the center of the mattress, holding his master comm close to her face, examining it.

“Is this a commlink?” She asks curiously. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

He takes a sharp breath, uncrossing his arms and striding over to her. “I told you not to touch anything,” he tells her as he plucks the device from her fingers. She widens her eyes, looking down and pursing her lips, seeming to hold back a retort. Then she rests her hands gently in her lap, sitting up straight.

He slowly takes a seat next to her, head forward but keeping her in view out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what’s so tough about being Supreme Leader?” Rey juts her chin up curiously, her tone strangely casual.

“How about you stay out of my head?” He replies, shooting her a cutting glare.

At this, she immediately lets out a huff. “That’s rich, coming from you.” Her tone is accusatory. “The first time we met, you entered my mind without my permission. More than once, if I recall correctly. So, I think I’m entitled to a few free passes into your mind.”  

Kylo feels a low raging panic begin to rise in his gut. He _has got_ to distract her, to keep her from peeling back his defenses.

So, he does what he does best, what comes naturally to him. He turns it around on her.

He twists slightly on the bed to face her. “Huh.” He muses, crossing his arms, regarding her with a sly sort of interest. “You know… I sense I’m not the only one in a mood.” He raises an eyebrow. “What is it, Rey?” He leans in closer and she flinches back, a flash of fear in her eyes. Then he reaches out with his Force senses and finds that it is indeed becoming easier to read one another’s thoughts.

“Ah.” He jerks his head back, his tone knowing. “I see. You really are on your own now, aren’t you? Now that Luke’s gone. No one to teach you. No one to guide you. No one to show you your place in all this.”

Rey tucks her hands under her arms as he speaks, hunching her shoulders, staring intently downward. He feels a pang of loneliness shoot through her. It’s a deep loneliness, not a far cry from despair.  

Several moments pass in silence. He feels Rey brace herself, try to clear her head, keep him from the soft, vulnerable parts of her mind.

“You know…” he begins slowly. She looks up at him guardedly. “My offer to teach you still stands.” There’s a glint in his eye, and his tone is half-mocking.

Rey scoffs, dropping her shoulders and rolling her eyes. He takes the opportunity to peek inside her head once more. Her gaze immediately snaps to his in accusation.

“The Resistance,” he intones again, “they’re half in awe of you and half terrified. Can you really blame them? Most of them probably didn’t even believe in the Force before they met you. Now they not only see that it’s real but how _powerful_ one can become through it.” Rey drops her arms at her sides, struggling to maintain her gaze, her brown eyes filling with uncertainty.

“And Rey, _you are powerful_ ,” he continues, leaning in subtly. “Powerful enough to make people afraid of you. You feel that all the time, don’t you? You felt it from Luke. You feel it from your friends. And every time you do, it confronts you with your worst fear— that you’ll never belong anywhere, to anyone. You’ll always be an outsider. Always alone.”

She finally looks away, eyes glistening with tears. Kylo feels a twist of guilt in his chest. She wipes a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, trying to collect herself. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

A second later, she sits up abruptly, placing both palms on the bed, leaning forward, and looking battle-ready. Her eyes are intense, almost menacing.

“ _You’re deflecting_ ,” she accuses confidently. “Just like you did when I asked you about your father on Ahch-To. That must be your go-to strategy to protect yourself when someone gets too close to your weaknesses. I see now…” She cocks her head, eyes still fixed on his, seeming to look through them.

“You directed me to my worst fear because I was getting too close to yours. You finally have your throne now, _Kylo Ren_.” She says the name caustically. “How is that working out for you? Not well so far. There’s so much incompetence. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. The once well-oiled First Order machine is starting to creak, to rust.” She leans forward even further, eyes cutting. “Is it because of you? Is it because you’re not really meant for this? Maybe. Maybe everything you’ve sacrificed to get here… maybe it was all for nothing.”

His jaw hardens as she speaks, his fists clenching tighter and tighter. When she finishes, he pushes out an angry exhale like fumes from his nostrils and twists away from her, trying to control the rage he feels bubbling up from within. His breathing is angry, uneven.

A minute passes. Maybe two. He’s not sure. He’s not focused on time. He focused on regaining control of himself, control of the dangerous, deeply buried fear Rey just exposed and provoked.

Finally, he collects himself and shifts again on the bed, turning back towards Rey.

She’s resituated. Her knees are bent, legs curled into her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, looking out thoughtfully at nothing in particular. Her eyes are almost dreamy, glazed and faraway.

He knits his eyebrows together, mystified by this strange look on her face.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks curiously.

“Well, look here now.” Her face snaps to his with a smug expression. “I see someone’s learned his lesson, _asking_ me what’s on my mind instead of rifling around my thoughts uninvited.” She squints at him, pleased with herself.

He tries to keep a neutral expression but can’t stop his eyes from flitting upwards in annoyance. A few seconds pass as she leans back, gazing up at him as if she’s trying to work out a problem with herself, deciding whether or not to continue.

“Well…” he says expectantly. “Are you going to reward my good behavior or not?” The corner of his mouth twists slightly into a smirk. Now Rey’s the one rolling her eyes.

She lets out a heavy sigh, then crosses her legs again and scoots in towards him. As she gets closer, his heart starts beating a little faster. She stops a half a foot away from him, sitting up, resting her shoulders back and her hands in her lap.  

“I was just thinking about something a trader once told me on Jakku.” Her brown eyes fix on his.

“He was just passing through. He said he’d travelled all over the galaxy, seen over a thousand worlds. Somehow, he got to talking about a strange species that lives on an unnamed planet in the outer regions. He described them as amphibious, humanoid creatures. But—” Suddenly, she scoots forward a little more, eyes alight with interest. “The most interesting thing about them is that they have a kind of advanced telepathy where they are all connected to every other mind in their species. They can’t help but read each other’s thoughts. So that means they can’t hide anything from each other. They’re a society without secrets. Everything anyone ever thinks or feels— their joys, their frustrations, their hopes, their fears—  all of it is public knowledge. No deflection. No lies. No secrets.” She finishes with a kind of awe in her voice.

Kylo grunts, looking away from her. “That sounds terrifying,” he observes in a low voice.

“Really?” Rey asks, a little taken back. “I always thought it sounded kind of… freeing. Comforting even.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Exactly what is comforting about being constantly exposed to everyone around you?”

She shrugs her shoulders, looking away. “I don’t know… I guess… it’s so easy to keep things to yourself. It feels natural. It feels like the best way to protect yourself.” She pauses for a moment, pressing her lips together.  

“But eventually, everything you hide… your secrets, your fears… they become your burden to bear. Alone. And sometimes you want to share it with someone, just to lighten the load for a moment. But it’s _so hard_ to talk about something you’ve buried so deep.” She knits her eyebrows and takes a breath, her eyes still cast to the side in a faraway look. “It seems like it would be easier if someone could be near you and just… _know_. Without you telling them. Know everything you’re struggling with, including those fears you’re too scared to admit, even to yourself.”

Right then, she looks back at him and he could swear his heart stops in his chest for a moment. Their eyes are locked, bound. They couldn’t look way from each other if they wanted to. Both of them are drawn to the other as though a magnetic force between them were pulling them in.

Without thinking, he reaches out for her face, the rational part of him decidedly overridden by the primal.

Her eyes widen and she flinches back slightly.

He stops.

Then, an instant later, she disappears.  

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Nothing but the low, mechanical hum of the ship all around.

Kylo sits, numbed, on his bed, staring blankly forward as though he weren’t really here. As though he were somewhere else. His breathing is deep and even. His body is perfectly still.

He jerks back abruptly, startled by the jarring sound of the long, droning beeps of a comm unit built into the wall, an alarm that indicates an emergency. He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. Then he wills himself to get up and walk over to his mask resting on the column next to the comm. He picks it up from the bottom, holding it just below him, staring down into its face.

Then he lifts it and brings it down over his head, clicking it into place. He turns a heel and exits the room swiftly.


	5. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren finally gets an opportunity to kill one of the few remaining remnants of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "home."
> 
> Also, this might accidentally be turning into a long form story instead of a one shot collection. Whoops. We'll see where it goes...

“Eighty Silencers, fresh off the production line,” The Vultan man’s voice swells with pride as he walks between rows of angular, black TIE fighters, his arms extending out to gesture at the ships on either side.

A masked Kylo Ren strides behind him, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“Prototype 2, all engineered to your specifications,” the Vultan continues. “And we’ve added several of our own improvements based on your post-flight reports.” The olive-skinned man turns his face towards him, ridged folds of flesh lining his long forehead. “We do appreciate the detail you put into those. With such thorough feedback from the customer, we can aim for perfection.”

“I expect perfection.” Kylo Ren’s voice is cold and distorted. “Nothing less.”

“Of course, your grace, of course,” the Vultan assures him nervously.

“Let’s take a closer look at one, shall we?” the man suggests, slowing and turning to the left towards one of the Silencers. Kylo Ren and the aerial captain beside him slow to follow. Suddenly, a clatter of steps approaches swiftly from the side.

“Supreme Leader!” An out-of-breath officer cries frantically, halting just before them. Kylo Ren still faces the ship, his back to the officer.

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he informs him without turning around.

“But… sir…” the officer continues timidly, “you said you wished to be informed immediately if we ever came to possess the Millennium Falco—”

Kylo Ren whips around and the officer jumps a little.

“You have it?” He demands, striding forward to tower over the man. “Where did you find it? Where is it now?”

“It was abandoned on an outer rim planet,” he begins, wincing a little. “Denash I believe. We received some reports that Resistance scum were stirring up trouble in the area so we sent a team to investigate.”

“Did you take any prisoners?” Kylo takes another step forward, his large form bearing down on the officer. The man fights the instinct to back away.

“No sir,” the officer gulps and forces himself to look up into the black mask. “We combed the area _thoroughly_ but found nothing. We confiscated the ship and it’s secured in port 44 now.”

Kylo Ren stands silently for a moment. Then he steps around the officer and begins striding away.

“Continue the inspection, captain,” he calls back. “Report to me if you finish before I return.”

His boots click heavily on the pristine floor, his pace swift and purposeful. Each step seems to stoke his anticipation, filling him with an almost manic excitement.

It’s been years since he’s seen the Falcon, _really_ seen it. It’s strange to think about now. It feels like he spent half his youth in the small, cramped annals of that ship. He can picture the interior in his mind with astonishing detail— the tattered seat in the lounge, stained with sweat, the grimy holoboard that barely works… he can see every corner… every crevice… every little part…

Kylo’s chest swells with dark satisfaction.  

And he can see it being ripped to shreds, destroyed beyond all recognition, a steaming heap of junk. Not even junk. Junk can be remade, repurposed. No, what Kylo Ren has in store for this ship will strip it of all hope of functionality— it will be nothing but chunks of metal, frayed wires, and ashes after he’s done with it.

He’s been imagining this for over a decade, toying with different scenarios. The ship has met its end in countless ways. He’s seen it pulverized with lasers, demolished under the foot of an AT-AT walker, smashed into a thousand pieces against the side of a mountain. _And the day has finally come_ … 

His heart quickens as he rounds a corner to the entrance of port 44, the Falcon just coming into view ahead. His pace slows as he nears the ship. He ignores the technicians, bowing deeply as he approaches.  

The ship looms over him and suddenly a sick feeling enters his gut.

This ugly, ancient piece of Corellian trash represents everything he hates about where he came from. It’s the last remnant of a childhood filled with confusion, resentment, anger, and weakness. In a way… it’s the last remnant of Ben Solo.

He tightens his jaw, suppressing the complex tide of emotions threatening to spill over the corners of his mind. An officer approaches him, looking pert and turtle-like with his collared uniform swallowing his fat neck.

“We finally have it sir,” he declares proudly, hands clasped behind his back. “What would you like us to do with it?”

Kylo Ren stands silently for a minute, looking up at the worn freighter, considering his options.

“I want you to wait five minutes,” he says finally, walking closer towards the ship. He reaches up to touch the dented metal with a gloved hand. “Then release it into space and blast it with the ventral cannons.”

Instantly, he turns a heel and walks away swiftly. He’ll watch from the external observation portal…. watch this final piece of his past explode into million pieces and scatter into the stars.

He stops abruptly just before the entrance of the port. Without thinking, as if driven by instinct, he turns a heel and strides back towards the Falcon. 

“Open the ship,” commands through his mask. Not a second later, the ramp begins to descend unevenly to touch the ground.

“Stay here.” He boards in a kind of daze, as though he weren’t entirely in control of his actions. He stops at the top of the ramp, a strange feeling descending upon him. Seeing it again… being here in this space, this exact spot, a spot he’s stood many times before… when he was three. And five. And eight. And eleven. And fifteen.   

He still feels all of the anger, all of the resentment he did then. But that’s not everything. There’s something else. Something too primal to have a name. It feels like…

Kylo Ren reaches up with both hands to remove his mask. He tucks it under his arm and turns to the right, taking several steps forward. He pauses again.  

It even smells the same. After all these years.

He stands, taking a look at the room, starting at the lounge seat, moving to the curved hall, the technical station, the overhead compartments.

 He takes a few more steps forward. He looks down, observing the floor below. His boot clinks against the metal he drags it along the grated surface.

He steps towards the table and places his mask on it carefully.

Suddenly, he looks up, peering intently down the circular curve of the hallway. He senses something... He steps forward cautiously, as quietly as possible. Is he… not alone on this ship?

The feeling grows, creeping into his senses from within. He stands up straight, relaxing his shoulders a bit, expectant. He knows what this is. It’s becoming increasingly familiar. And not altogether unwelcome.

As if melting in from another world, Rey appears before him. She stands tall, ready. She felt the bond bringing them together too. But then suddenly her eyebrows knit in confusion. She begins to frantically look up and around, twisting behind her. Then her shoulders drop.

“ _Shit.”_

She whips around to glare at him, annoyed. 

“ _Of course_ you would have it.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and blowing out a puff of air. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I just assumed that filthy Rodian made off with it after selling us out to the First Order.” She groans in frustration, stepping into the lounge towards him.

“How long have you had it?” She looks up at him intently.

He returns her gaze, cool and even. “Had what?” He feigns a hint of confusion.

She punches him in the shoulder without thinking. “ _The Falcon_!” She shouts at him with wide, angry eyes. “What did you think I meant?” Suddenly, she jerks back, squinting up at him, uncertain.

“Were you teasing me?” She demands, crossing her arms again. “Don’t tease me right now.” She shakes her head, her tone impatient. “Not after the week I’ve had.” She steps around him, surveying the room intensely as if she’s searching for something.

“And it’s _your_ fault,” She spits out accusingly as she begins rifling through things scattered over the technical station. “It was _your_ precious troops that showed up to chase us out of town. And then they blew up half the town trying to do it. Now me and Chewie are hiding on the side of a mountain, waiting for someone to pick us up tomorrow morning.” She turns abruptly and sprints across the room, dropping to kneel before a metal crate next to the lounge seat.

Kylo watches her impassively. “Yes, I’m sure you weren’t doing anything to attract their attention,” he deadpans, stepping towards her. She glares up at him for a moment then continues to shuffle through the contents of the crate, ignoring him. He steps closer, reaching out with his Force senses into her mind.   

“Hey! Haven’t we talked about this?” Rey shoots up angrily. “Don’t go where you’re not invited.” She steps in close, just in front of him, glaring up intently at him for emphasis. Then she shifts around him, straight to the overhead compartments to his left.

“Recruiting? Really, Rey?” He asks dryly turning towards her, cocking his head as she searches through the compartments. “In that shithole of a planet? The Resistance must be truly desperate. You’re wasting your time with them, you know.”

At this, Rey reels back, snapping her head to him with fire in her eyes, ready to pounce. But just as she starts to rear towards him, she jerks back, regaining control of herself at the last moment. She shakes her head dismissively, as if to say he isn’t worth her time, then heads straight for the curved hall, striding purposefully forward.

He waits for a few seconds before following her. Then he walks slowly down the hall to see one of the doors to the secret compartments under the floor open. He hears Rey moving about inside.

“What are you doing?” He asks as he gets close enough to peer down at her. She’s crouching and shifting through another crate.

“I’m _inventorying_ ,” She responds, clearly annoyed, still focused on what’s in front of her. “I’m making sure your pawns didn’t steal anything. Anything important, anyways.”

“Why bother?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. “This ship and everything on it is mine now.”

Rey stops cold, shoulders stiffening. She crouches silently for a few seconds, then crawls out of the compartment to stand tall and steady under him. She looks up with a sure gaze.

“Give me back the Falcon,” she demands, stepping in close enough to graze his chest, light brown eyes fixed on his.

“And why would I do that?” He stares down at her, unblinking.

“Because…” She starts, voice becoming less sure. She breaks her gaze for a moment, thinking. Then her eyes snap back to his.

“It has a tracking device on board. And it’s well hidden. As long as you have this ship, the Resistance will be able track your location wherever you are.” She stares into him threateningly.

He purses his lips, a glint in his eye. “The Resistance? Tracking my every move?” He steps forward suddenly, bumping into Rey, forcing her to take a couple steps back. Her heels grip the edge of the compartment opening.

“I’m terrified.” He lowers his voice, leaning down over her menacingly.

She flinches and loses her balance, falling backward. In one swift motion, his arm shoots out and pulls her into him. They feel their heartbeats quicken, chests pressed against one another. He lingers, longer than he should, arm behind her waist, gripping her firmly, before he pulls her from the opening and releases her. He turns a heel abruptly and strides back into the lounge.

“What would the First Order do if, what? All forty of you? Came knocking at our door,” he continues in a mocking tone. “No, perhaps forty-one now. Did you recruit anyone in Denash?” He casts a snide glance back at her. He feels her anger rise.

Rey breaks into a run, racing past him and planting herself firmly in his path. “ _Give me back the Falcon!_ ” She insists again, looking up into him, eyes like lasers.

“Rey, no,” he replies firmly, returning her fierce gaze with cold detachment. “It’s mine now. You abandoned it. My forces found it. I came by it through lawful means. I would say you could barter for it but you have nothing that I want.”

Something flashes across Rey’s eyes— a caustic look that seems to challenge him. She starts to say something but abruptly looks away and begins to move past him.

She continues forward to the technical station, stopping before it and letting out a sigh of resignation. Then she stoops over to grab one of the metal crates and set it on the surface. He watches as she opens the crate and empties the contents, then begins to refill it with junk here and there.

“What are you doing now?” He asks, beginning to lose patience.

“Well, clearly I can physically touch things in your location through the bond,” she answers with her back to him. “I’m about to find out if I can take things back with me through it.” She turns and walks to an overhead compartment, opening it and taking a few things to place in the crate. She casts a glance at him. “That is, of course, if you’ll allow me to take a few of my things, _Supreme Leader_.” She gives him a mock bow.

He stands, unmoving. “It makes no difference to me.”

“Well, that’s very generous of you,” she says sarcastically, still loading the crate. “What do you plan to do with the ship, anyways? Lock it away, never to be seen again?”

“Oh no,” he responds assuredly, shaking his head. “I have something much better in mind.”

“Yeah?” Rey asks absently. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to destroy it,” he answers decidedly.

Suddenly, Rey whips around, eyes wide in horror. “ _Ben, no_!” She cries in protest, taking a few frantic steps towards him.

“You can’t do that!” She insists, dismayed, voice growing increasingly panicked.

“Actually, I can do whatever I want with this ship,” he informs her matter-of-factly.

“But…” she sputters, looking around her wildly. He feels her emotions raging through him, a frenzied, unfocused fear. “But…” she repeats, seeming to search her mind for a way to talk him out of it. “This is your family ship!” She declares finally.

“ _No, it’s not_!” He barks back at her, louder than he intended. She flinches, taking a step back from him. He takes a breath, collecting himself.

“No, it’s not,” he repeats more calmly.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “But you spent half your life on this ship! You practically grew up here. You can’t just get rid of it!”

“Yes. I can.” He punctuates each word.

“But it’s part of you!” She insists, almost shrill. “It’s part of who you are, part of where you came from.”

“ _Rey_ ,” He intones deeply, frustration boiling over into rage. “How many times do I have to tell you— let the past die. This ship _is not_ part of me. Any part of me that was bound to it, I killed a long time ago.”

Her shoulders drop, defeated. She turns silently and walks to the lounge seat, sinking down into a corner of it. She leans over, propping her elbows on her knees, looking out into space with a pained expression. He stands nearby, regarding her curiously as she stares into nothing for a minute.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to this stupid ship?” Kylo breaks the silence, crossing his arms and stepping towards Rey.

She lets out a small sigh and looks down, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “I don’t know…” She starts quietly, shoulders hunched, looking bruised, vulnerable. “I…” She takes a shallow breath.  “I guess… somewhere along the line… without realizing it… this ship became my home.”

 “ _Really?_ ” He scoffs in disbelief. “This piece of junk is your home?” She shoots him an angry look.

“ _Yes_ ,” she answers a bit defensively. “You know, you might not be able to understand this but… I never really had a home. Or a family. I lived in an old AT-AT walker on Jakku, but… it never really felt like home. Not like the Falcon does.” Her voice breaks as she looks down, eyes beginning to well with tears. “This was the place where I found myself. Found a family, of sorts. Found a purpose. It just… helps me feel like I belong somewhere.” She squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, drawing her shoulders together, making herself small. She hunches over, tears spilling over her cheeks.

Kylo watches, unsure what to say. He feels a deep twist in his heart, a long-suppressed emotion that’s become much more familiar since he met Rey.

Compassion.

He takes a couple of steps towards her, slowly, the click of his boots filling the silence. He pauses, towering over her small form for a moment, before kneeling down to regard her quietly. Her eyes are still closed, her smooth skin, pink lips, glistening with tears. He reaches up with a gloved hand to brush them from her face. At this, her eyes fly open.

“Ben.” She leans towards him, her voice is just above a whisper, lips trembling. “Please don’t destroy this ship. _Please_. Lock it away somewhere, out of sight. You never have to see it again. Just…” her voice breaks, holding back a sob. “ _Don’t destroy it._ ” she begs breathlessly, eyes pleading with his.

He stares back at her solemnly, fighting to maintain a neutral expression… but his chest is hollow. Aching. He feels himself overcome with a powerful pull, a desire that undermines his rational brain entirely. He imagines what he wants to do… remove his gloves. Reach out. Bring her face to his. Kiss the tears from her cheeks. Pull her into to his chest. Wrap his arms around her. Whisper that her home is wherever he is.

But he doesn’t do any of those things.

He just stares back at her, stiffened, black eyes guarded, yearning concealed under a practiced coldness.

Rey gulps, filling with disappointment, accepting defeat. She closes her eyes, taking a shallow breath and hanging her head.

Then she disappears, melting away just as she came.

He exhales heavily, as though he’s been holding his breath since she got there. He looks up into the ceiling, taking more air into his lungs, trying to purge his mind, his body, of the bond. His shoulders finally relax, his heartbeat returns to normal. He stands, taking one final look around the ship.

Then he sweeps his mask from the table, bringing it up and overhead, clicking it smoothly into place. He turns sharply, striding out of the lounge and pressing a panel to open the landing deck. He begins descending before it reaches the ground.

The technicians look away as he exits, shrinking a bit. The fat-necked officer approaches him with an air of ingratiation. He halts, straightening stiff as a board then giving a dramatic bow. He rises swiftly.

“Five minutes, sir,” he announces. “Then we will release this garbage heap into space and blast it to smithereens.” His voice is triumphant.

“No,” Kylo Ren replies in a cool, distorted voice. “Put it back where you found it. Exactly. Now.” He strides away, ignoring the officer’s shock.

“But, sir…” he sputters, stepping after him.

Kylo whips around and extends his arm, reaching out with his Force senses to grip the man’s throat, lifting him up several inches into the air. He immediately starts choking and tugging at his collar. In an instant, the officer drops, crashing onto the hard floor, gasping for breath.

Kylo Ren takes two steps towards him, looking down coldly.

“Do I need repeat myself?” He cocks his head, menacing over the man. The officer looks up, gulping.

“Of course not, Supreme Leader.” He bows. Kylo turns to stride away once more.

“And put a tracking device on it,” He commands without looking back. He charges onward, forcefully channeling his energy into the tasks ahead. The Silencer inspection. The next phase of testing. An endless regimen of responsibility.

He’s had enough distractions for one day.

He needs to lose himself in his work, in this rush of focus. He needs fixate on something, anything to keep him from facing the uncomfortable truth.

That there’s a part of him… a part he thought he killed long ago… still alive. And Rey’s keeping it that way.

****

 

Rey’s eyes fly open in terror. She shoots up, sitting on a hard surface, looking around, disoriented. Faint light from a jagged opening pours in to the space around her. Her eyes adjust, taking in her surroundings… thick, grey rock stretching overhead, damp earth, a makeshift fire pit to the left. Then it all comes flooding back as she remembers where she is…

The recruitment mission. Denash. That sniveling Rodian. The First Order nearly blasting her and Chewie to bits. Racing to hide in the mountains. The Falcon, gone.

At this, her shoulders drop and she lets out a heavy sigh.

The bond. Him. With _her ship_. His plan to obliterate it.

Rey gulps, feeling the tears begin to well in the corners of her eyes again.

_No._

She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, deliberately. He _will not_ make her cry today.

She pushes herself up, standing to look around, wondering what time it is, where Chewie’s gotten off to. They don’t have long. Finn will be here to pick them up soon.

She walks over to the fire pit and begins dismantling it. One could argue that there’s no need since they’ll be leaving this planet soon, for good most likely. But covering her tracks has become second nature since joining the Resistance.

Suddenly, she hears Chewie’s voice, distant but getting closer, frantic. Seconds later, she sees him wriggling his way through the small opening, tufts of fur getting caught on jagged rock.

“What’s wrong?” Rey demands urgently.

He baws a warning in response.

“ _You saw a First Order ship!?_ Are you sure?”

He baws again, confirming.

Rey’s heartbeat starts to quicken. Have they come back to try to root them out? Finn… he’s on his way. He’ll be in danger too. She bites her lip, trying to figure out what to do. They can’t go to the rendezvous point now… they can’t be exposed. But she also can’t let Finn land here. She’s going to have to sneak back into town and get a message to him.

Her mind races, plotting out a course of action. Then she stops suddenly.

A strange feeling descends upon her. A realization. She doesn’t know how she knows but… she knows.

“Chewie, get your things. We’re heading out.”

He protests, insisting that if they leave the mountain, they’ll be First Order target practice.

“No, we won’t,” she replies firmly. “Now, _come on_. Hurry.”

The Wookie baws again in protest.

“Chewie, trust me,” she says as she grabs her pack, looking up at him. “When have I ever lead you astray?”

He cocks his head doubtfully, then baws that Han would say that exact thing right before they did something stupidly dangerous.

Rey rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m not Han. And we’re not in danger. Just… _trust me_ , ok?”

The Wookie nods reluctantly and begins stuffing a few things into his pack.

When they’re ready, they both wriggle out of the crevice in the mountainside and Rey leads them forward. They move swiftly down the mountain path and into the forest. They continue through the thick trees, over the small streams, around the valley of boulders that was once a river.

Rey knows exactly where she’s going. She moves with purpose, looking around her for the signs, the little things she took note of when they first landed on this planet a week ago, the map she created in her mind.

With every step, the flurry of anticipation in her chest grows. A part of her worries… maybe she’s wrong? But the stronger part of her knows that she’s not.

There’s the broken tree, ancient and split in half.

They’re close.

She picks up her pace, breaking into to run. She leaps over large roots, weaving around branches and mossy overhangs. Finally, she emerges through the brush… and sees it just ahead. She can’t stop a huge grin from breaking across her face as she halts to take in the glorious image before her.

The Falcon. Right where she left it, perched on a large, flat boulder in an opening in the forest. Suddenly, Chewie pushes his way through the brush to stand beside her. He regards the ship with confusion, then turns to Rey for answers. She shrugs in response.

“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, huh?” She tells him dismissively. “Come on. We’ve got to contact Finn, tell him to turn around.” She steps forward towards the ship, reaching into her pack for the remote that opens the landing deck. She pushes a button and the ramp begins to creak, descending down to the earth.

She barrels up it into the ship, stopping just at the top. She breathes deeply, taking in the smell of the place. Her heart is full of pure joy… and gratitude.

_Home._

He brought it back to her.


	6. How to Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds herself confronted with a new challenge-- freezing temperature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "survival." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta-- Disney Princess!

Rey pants heavily, eyes closed, the hilt of her blaster resting against her cheek. She’s crouched behind a large boulder, her back resting against its hard surface.

They’re heading in her direction. She can hear them, sense them. There are so many… at least thirty, probably more.

She can’t fight them off. Even she’s not _that_ good.

No, there’s only one option here. And it’s straight ahead of her.

She opens her eyes and places the blaster down on the earth below. She secures the strap of her pouch across her body and leans forward, dropping to her knees and planting her palms firmly on the damp ground. Her breath, quick and labored, leaves a soft mist in the cold air. She looks up through the forest, sparsely populated with dead trees, grayish-white and knotted.

It’s about 100 meters ahead. Maybe less. She’ll need to be fast.

She closes her eyes, concentrating. She slows her breath, slows her heartbeat. The Force wells from within, spreading through her chest and into her limbs, calming her mind yet priming her muscles.

She takes a deep breath and rises halfway, lifting her right knee, bracing a toe against the boulder. Her fingertips touch the earth lightly. Despite the crunch of leaves under thick boots getting closer, the forest seems to grow silent. Hushed. Nothing but the pulsing of her heartbeat.  

Her eyes snap open.

In an instant, she sprints forward at full speed, boots pumping against the ground, bent arms swinging forward and back. Blaster fire whizzes around her. She reaches out with her Force senses to feel the plasma shots coming from behind, weaving around them. The fire grows more intense… there’s more than she can dodge… a shot nips her right thigh just before she leaps over the cliff and into the deep, raging river below.

Cold, like daggers of ice, pierce her entire body, freezing her into a state of momentary shock. Her lungs seize as though the air’s been knocked out of them. It seems to take forever before she adjusts to the temperature enough to be able to move. Finally, she regains control of her legs and kicks up to the surface.

Her head emerges from the water for barely a second before blaster fire begins raining down from above. She ducks into the river again, letting the swift current carry her away from the attackers. She stays under, coming up again only long enough to take a breath. The rapids pull her along violently, thrashing her against sharp edges of rock.

Suddenly, she feels herself get caught from behind. She tries to wriggle free to no avail. She pops her head out from under the water to see what’s keeping her. She’s immediately met with blaster fire. She ducks back under, kicking and flailing, trying to free herself from whatever she’s caught on. Finally, she lifts the strap of her pouch over her head and releases it. She surges forward, her jacket ripping off her as the river sweeps her away.

Her head pops above the surface again as she crashes against another rock, then another. The rapids toss her from side to side, bruising her, cutting her, but also making her a more difficult target. The river turns her around just in time for her to see the edge not two feet ahead. She tumbles over the waterfall, down, down, head first into the deep below.

For a moment, the roar of the rapids disappears. It’s almost peaceful, like the quiet heart of a storm. But the current soon tugs her along, continuing to abuse her body, throwing it against jagged edges in the stream. She fights her way to the surface for a giant gulp of air. Her head bobs above the water, exposed. She jerks around as the river carries her, looking for any sign of her attackers. But she sees no one. Only the forest all around.

The rapids have slowed but the current is still strong. She feels nauseous, spinning around and around in the water, but mostly she feels _cold_. A deep cold that cuts to the bone. A kind of cold she never knew existed.

She should stay in the river, gain more distance from her attackers… but she can’t stand another minute of this cold. She’s starting to get disoriented, her rational brain shutting down.

She dives towards the right side, kicking against the current. It keeps throwing her back, undoing her progress.

Swimming is not her forte. She only learned a few months ago. The sensation of being immersed in water, a resource so scarce on Jakku, is still very unfamiliar. But it’s nothing compared to the cold.

Rey flails her limbs, arms splashing about with wild, unpracticed strokes. She doesn’t look up; she just concentrates on moving her arms and legs in a rhythmic pace. She loses herself in the repetitive motion, eyes squeezed shut, ignoring the stream fighting against her.

Eventually, her hand hits something solid. She grips the object and pulls forward. It feels like a branch… No, it’s a tree root, thick and jutting out of the tangled edge of the riverbank. She grips it with her other hand too, hoisting herself up and over the edge, rising to her hands and her knees to crawl forward only to collapse onto her back a few seconds later, convulsing with shivers on the ground. She takes quick, sharp breaths, each one satisfying but also painful, a dagger of ice in her lungs.

She rolls over to her side, curling into a ball, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, trying to preserve her body heat. It’s no use. She can’t seem to stop herself from shivering violently, teeth chattering.

She needs to get up. She needs to get back to town. Jess will be worried sick about her. She’s about five miles away, she’d guess. It’ll take her hour to walk back. And she doesn’t have long before sundown. She needs to get up. _Now._

Despite her brain’s command, she remains tucked tightly in the fetal position, unmoving except for the shivers wracking her body.

It’s time. _Come on, Rey_. Get up.

She begins to loosen her hold on herself, slowly drawing her knees from her body.

Suddenly, she hears a couple of birds fly out of a tree overhead. She stops, ears alert, listening for any sound, especially footsteps. The air seems to change around her. Or is the change coming from within?

It is. That familiar sense of another presence creeping in from far away, faint at first but growing stronger.

 _Oh no_ … _Not now._

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself. It happens, just like it always does. For a moment, the sound around her disappears into a vacuum. An instant later, it returns.

Then she feels him standing behind her.

For a minute, neither of them speak. Rey only hears the river, the birds, the sound of her chattering teeth as she convulses on the ground. Finally, she clears her throat with a cough.

“Th-This…” she has a hard time speaking through the shivers, “ _is not_ a good time.”

“I can see that.” Is that a hint of concern?

Rey pushes herself up from the ground, still convulsing uncontrollably, and twists around to look up at him. He’s standing just a pace away, looking down at her, eyebrows knitted together.

“Well then…” she continues, with quick, half breaths, “Why don’t you just… _go away_.”

He blinks. “You know that’s not how this works. I don’t have any more control over the bond than you do. I’m here for as long as it keeps me here.” He cocks his head. That’s definitely concern on his face.

Rey shifts on the ground, pushing up onto her knees. She stops, bringing a palm to her forehead, letting out a groan that comes out in a staccato rhythm through her shivers. “Can you can see my surroundings again? Hear things? Touch things?” He takes a couple of steps to the right.

“Yes,” he confirms. Rey lets out another groan, sitting back on her calves.

“ _Why does this keep happening!?_ ” She practically growls the question angrily, arms wrapped tightly around herself, tensing, trying to get her body to stop shaking. “And at the _worst_ times. I’ve noticed that. Whenever I’m feeling horrible, that’s when you show up.”

She hears him fiddling around with something next to her. Suddenly, she sees his waistband drop to the ground. Her head snaps up towards him. He’s pulling his thick black coat over his shoulders, nothing but a thin shirt underneath it.

“What are you doing?” She demands.

“You’re wet and half-naked in the cold, Rey,” he answers matter-of-factly, slipping the coat off and handing it to her.

She pauses before taking it. The proud part of her wants to refuse. But the part of that’s so cold she can’t think straight doesn’t care. They’ve never tried to exchange anything through the bond before… but now seems like an _excellent_ time to test that theory. She grabs the coat and begins putting it on.

“Wait,” he interrupts. “Take your shirt off.” She immediately shoots him a look.

He rolls his eyes impatiently. “Rey, wetness makes the cold ten times more dangerous.” He informs her of this like an admonishment. “You need to take off all the wet clothes you can, especially your socks.” He crosses his arms and turns his back to her to give her some privacy.

Normally, she’d be peeved by his imperiousness, expecting her to follow his orders without question. But the way her body is feeling… the numbness, the stiffness, the fog starting to overtake her mind… Maybe he’s right. She slips off her long-sleeved shirt, once thick and warm but now in tatters from sharp rocks ripping into it in the river, and begins to draw his coat over her shoulders. It absolutely swallows her, but right now, she’ll take what she can get.

“What about you?” She leans over to pick up his waistband. It’s too big for her to wear properly, but she can tie it.

“I’ve lived half my life in space. I’m used to the cold,” he replies. “Besides, I won’t be spending the night here.”

At that, Rey scoffs. “Neither will I,” she says, pulling off her boots. “I’ve got to get back to town. Jess will be wondering where I’m at.” She pries off a wet sock, tossing it to the side.

“ _Rey, no_.” He practically barks at her, turning around. “Look at your hair.”

She knits her eyebrows and turns up at him with confusion. What? What does her hair have to do with anything? She reaches up to grab a few strands. Then she feels it.

Ice. The water in her hair is starting to freeze.

“It’s not even sundown yet, and it’s below freezing.” There’s an undertone of warning in his voice. He looks up through the dead trees at the sky. “You don’t have long before dark. Then, it will get much colder, possibly below 0°, and since you’re wet, your clothes will freeze to your skin.”

She finishes tying her boots and rises, feeling better with his coat, but still shivering violently. “Well, that’s why I have to hurry. Besides, if I get moving I’ll start to feel warmer.”

“ _Rey, no_ ,” he insists again, taking a step towards her. She looks up at him and is met by intense black eyes. “You’ll freeze to death. Trust me. You need to find shelter for the night, build a fire, dry off, and wait until morning.”

She rolls her eyes, looking away from him. She starts to walk forward, trying to catch her bearings. Suddenly, he grabs her upper arm tightly. Her head snaps up at him with surprise.

“Rey, you need to listen to me.” He’s starting to sound urgent. “You’re from a warm planet. To you, cold below zero is just a concept. But it’s about to become a reality. Do you know what happens to a human body in freezing temperature?” He leans down a little.

She looks at him, guarded, but doesn’t say anything.

“First, you’ll get numb, especially your hands and your face. Your lips might freeze shut. Then, you’ll start to feel disoriented. It will be subtle to begin with but get worse the longer you’re exposed. Next, you’ll start losing coordination. It’ll get hard to walk straight. Your pace will slow. Then, your muscles will grow rigid to the point where it becomes difficult to move.” As he speaks, his face descends, getting gradually closer to hers.

“Your heartbeat will become irregular, your pulse will weaken, and that’s when the irrational behavior will begin. You might take off all your clothes, not realizing what you’re doing. And then…” He stops, his face just an inch from hers. “You’ll die.”

His black eyes are piercing. He lingers for a moment, as if to fully impress upon her the seriousness of the situation. Then he abruptly takes a step back, straightening and looking around.

“You need to find shelter, you need to build a fire, and you need to wait until morning,” he repeats decisively, taking in the surroundings. He shoots her a glance. “Come on.” He nods his head forward, then begins striding in that direction.

Rey watches him leave, the forest bed crunching under his boots as he goes. She half expects him to disappear the further he gets from her. Since they’ve started seeing one another’s surroundings, neither of them has actually tried to _walk away_ from the other, not far at least. Maybe when there’s enough distance between them he’ll just… fade away.

She waits.

No luck.

Rey looks up at the sky, noticing the sun beginning to set. She brings a palm to her head, feeling light and increasingly less alert. She sighs through her shivers. Then, reluctantly, she begins to follow him.

The forest is large, stretching endlessly out in all directions. The trees are bare, branches twisting like bony fingers into the sky. They’re sparse enough to easily see the ceiling of thick, gray clouds above, the amber glow of the sun barely visible in the distance.

The earth below is covered in the brown detritus of dead leaves, with other remnants of the trees— twigs, branches, moss-covered logs. They’re on a sloping mountainside, walking uphill. There’s a ledge up ahead, not too high, about five meters up, but it gets taller as it stretches to the left. She sees him stop just in front of it and crouch down. She pulls her arms tightly around herself and picks up her pace to meet him. The coat’s helping but her extremities are numbed— her fingers, her nose, but most especially her feet. They feel heavy, like blocks of ice.

“We need to collect dry wood,” he says as she approaches, shifting through a pile of branches in front of him, still wearing his thick black gloves.

“That won’t be easy,” she warns. “This forest is damp. It’s rained every day since we arrived.”

He stands, a couple of branches tucked under his arm, and begins walking left. She follows, scanning the ground for potential firewood. They both make their way up the incline, the ledge to their right getting taller as they go.

“What the hell happened to you just before I got here?” He calls back at her.

Rey pauses for a moment, crouching down to examine a branch. “That’s none of your business,” she calls out in response. She drops the branch on the ground. Too heavy. Full of water. She withdraws her numbed hands back into the sleeves of the oversized coat and rises. She suddenly feels a bit lightheaded. She still shivers uncontrollably, not as violently now, but the cold is no less biting than it was in the river.

They walk up the mountainside silently for a few minutes, picking up possible bits of firewood as they go. Rey finds she’s having trouble walking in a straight line. Her legs feel heavy, clumsy, her mind disoriented, unfocused. Maybe she needs to start talking, just to try and stay alert. 

“I was in town,” She starts, finally breaking the silence. “Jess, a friend of mine—”

“Resistance fighter?” He interrupts, several paces ahead of her.

“ _Friend_ ,” Rey repeats with emphasis. “She was… in a meeting, of sorts. I was waiting for her when a boy ran up to me, absolutely panicked. He said his mother took a fall several miles outside town and was bleeding badly, couldn’t walk. She needed someone to transport her back into town.” Rey trips a little but regains her balance.

“And you fell for that?” Ben asks in a patronizing tone. He’s getting further ahead.

She narrows her eyes, annoyed, stooping down to examine another branch. “I suspected it _might_ be a ruse,” she calls out. “But I wasn’t sure. And if I was wrong, that means his mother would have bled to death for nothing when I could have easily picked her up. So, I could either trust the boy and possibly be attacked or not trust him and leave him orphaned on this horrible planet. For me, it was an easy choice to make.” She rises, adding the branch to the collection tucked under her arm. She hears him scoff.

“It’s a miracle you survived in that desert wasteland you call a home world with that attitude,” he calls back at her snidely.

Rey feels a low burning anger ignite in her gut. “Ben, that attitude is _how_ I survived,” she insists, picking up her pace, trying to catch up to him. “People on Jakku may not have liked me, but they knew what I was about. They knew I wouldn’t steal from them. Or lie. And they knew that if they were in a dire situation and I was nearby, I would help them. As long as I had no reason to distrust them. And they would do the same for me. Kind of like an honor code. Unspoken. It saved my life more than once.”

She can’t see his reaction to this, his back still to her as he makes his way up the incline. He’s still several meters ahead of her. She follows as best she can, trying to wriggle her toes inside her boots but she can’t feel them. In fact, she can’t feel her feet at all. The only good news is that her numbness has advanced to a point where the cold doesn’t feel as painful as it did. She’s shivering a lot less.

“So, you would help others even if it endangers your own life?” He calls back, clearly disapproving.  

“Within reason,” she replies, halting for a moment to collect herself. Her brain still feels foggy. In fact, it seems to be getting worse…

“I can see how well that worked out for you today,” he says with more than a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” she retorts, stumbling forward again. “Besides, I had no idea the gangs on this planet were so militarized. If there was an ambush, I knew I could take a team of ten, maybe more. But I didn’t expect a damn army. And all of that for a speeder.”

“I don’t think they were just after the speeder, Rey,” he says a bit ominously. “You’re a young woman on a sparsely populated outer rim planet. You’re valuable.”

Suddenly, Rey lunges forward, tripping over her own two feet, dropping her load of firewood, hands flying out to break her fall. She feels something sharp cut into her palm.

Ben moves swiftly to meet her, crouching, eyebrows knitting with concern. He immediately starts examining her boots.

“You can’t feel your feet, can you?” He looks at her. She shakes her head no. He reaches out for her chin with his right thumb and index finger, tilting her face up towards his. He examines her eyes in clinical way, as though looking at her and not looking at her at the same time.

“Your pupils are dilated,” he says, worried. “and your lips are blue. Are you shivering any less?”

“Yes, actually,” she admits, her vision starting to blur.

“That’s not good. That’s not good at all,” he repeats, tone darkening. “Stay here.” He rises and she hears him walk away.

She does as he says, easily. She’s not sure she could stand if she tried. Everything’s so numb. She can’t feel her face, her ears, her hands, her feet… Her mind doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t feel fully conscious, just dazed, as if in that liminal space between being asleep and awake. She sits up on the ground, drawing her knees close to her chest, trying to grip them tightly into her. But her muscles aren’t working properly. Without intending to, she slowly leans forward and eventually crumples on the ground.

Rey’s not sure how much time passes before she feels herself being lifted, gripped firmly and floating through the woods. Her mind is still disoriented, her vision still blurry. She seems to be in a dream. The forest blends together— the dead brown leaves, the bare branches, the gray skies become one, bleeding into one another. Suddenly, it grows dark and she feels herself being placed on the ground. Instinctively, she rolls over and curls into a ball, shivering. She squeezes her eyes shut.  

Time… it doesn’t pass like it should. She fades in and out without realizing it. She doesn’t seem to really be here in this physical place. Her senses are so dulled. She focuses on her breath, the one thing that she can still actually feel.

Eventually, something shifts. Arms slide under her body and lift her briefly then set her back down. She’s pulled up, her back pressed firmly against something hard and warm. But the real warmth is directly ahead of her. She opens her eyes.

Fire, _glorious fire_ , is raging in front of her. Large hands are pulling up the oversized sleeves of her coat, gripping her wrists gently and holding her palms up to the flames. She feels a welcome stream of warm air across her right ear. His breath.

He scoots himself forward with her between his legs, drawing her a bit closer to the fire. His feet are planted firmly on either side of her. She’s enveloped in him, pressed against his chest, his shoulders and arms extended out on other side of her, creating a wall of warmth.  His hands are still at her wrists, holding up her palms as close to the fire as is safe, trying to thaw her.

It’s working. She feels the blood returning to her fingers. She moves them slightly, shaking them free of their stiffness. He releases her wrists once he sees her do this, dropping his hands down to her shins. He massages them with soft grips for a minute or two, rubbing up and down. Then, the feeling starts to return to her feet too. She can wriggle her toes in her boots again. Now she can feel her lips, her nose, her ears… it’s all coming back. Her mind as well. Her vision sharpens back to normal. The fog in her brain begins to clear, gradually but steadily.

Rey drops her arms finally, crossing them tightly across her chest. He does the same, wrapping his arms around her, enclosing her in his body heat. She looks like a miniature version of him, sitting exactly as he is, feet planted in front of her, knees up, nested inside him. She rests her head back and looks out at the fire, flickering and crackling before them.

She takes a moment to look up and around, see where he’s brought her. It’s a cave… Well, more like a large hole. The walls and ceiling are mostly a firm mixture of earth and rock except for one smooth slab of gray stone to the left. She observes the fire pit. It’s well constructed, with large rocks forming the perimeter and wood stacked in such a way to give the fire plenty of room to breathe, a good mixture of slow burning wood and kindling.

She must admit… she’s impressed. She never would have thought in a million years that he’d know how to do something like this. Son of the great Leia Organa, raised in privilege. Now the galaxy’s son of darkness. She’d assumed he spent most of his life being catered to, waited on, provided with every necessity and much more.

“So…” Rey breaks the silence tentatively. “Where did you learn how to do all of this?”

“Do what?” His deep voice is right next to her ear. She can feel his chest resonate when he speaks. She wishes her heart wouldn’t flutter at this…

“Build a fire,” she starts. “Know how to survive in cold weather.”

“Rey, what do you think I’ve been doing all my life? Being waited on hand and foot in a dreadnought?” He sounds slightly peeved. Rey shrugs.

 It falls quiet again, fire cracking softly.

 “Snoke had… _creative_ training methods,” he answers finally.

“Like what?” She cocks her head.

“Like abandoning me on a snow planet and coming back a week later to see if I was still alive.”

“You _must_ be joking.” She twists her head around to look up at him briefly   

“Afraid not.” His expression is neutral, dispassionate. 

She looks forward again, shaking her head in disbelief. “But _why?_ ”

“It was part of his training philosophy.” She feels him take a deep breath. “In his mind, his role as a teacher was to try to kill me. And my role was not to die. If I was strong enough to live what he put me through, then I was a worthy apprentice.”

Silence. A minute passes.

“I’m sorry,” Rey whispers quietly.

“Don’t be,” he says. “It made me into a survivor, stronger than I ever was when I was Ben Solo.”

At this, her shoulders drop. A hollow aching seizes her heart. This man used to make her feel _so angry_. But the more she learns about him, about his past… the more he just makes her feel… sad.

Several minutes pass. Rey gazes out of the opening of the cave. It’s dark now. The forest seems louder at night. She can hear croaking outside and the scurrying of animals in the brush. She jumps a little when she hears a crack and thud. Ben tightens his arms around her.

Rey bites her lip. She hates to admit it… but this feels good. More than just warm. She feels protected. Safe. She’s glad he’s here.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For all of this. For keeping me alive. If the bond hadn’t brought you here…” Her voice trails off. It’s quiet for a moment.

“You’re welcome.” He seems to lean in closer when he says this. She could swear she feels his lips graze her ear. Another minute passes. They both gaze out at the fire, still crackling gently ahead.

“Do you ever…” she starts hesitantly, breaking the silence once more. “Do you ever wonder what the bond is for?”

“What do you mean?” He intones quietly.

“I mean… Do you ever wonder why it exists? Why it’s growing like this? Do you ever think that maybe Snoke didn’t really do this… that maybe this is something else?” A few seconds pass.

“All the time,” he answers finally. Something about the way he says this makes her heart skip a beat.

“Do you remember what I said earlier when you first showed up? That you always seem to appear when I’m feeling horrible for some reason.” She twists her head up to look at him. “Is it the same for you?” He looks down at her, twitching his jaw slightly.

“In a way... yes,” he says, tilting his head. She looks to the fire again.

“ _Why?_ ” The weight of the questions seems to fill the cave. “Why do this? What’s the point of it all?” He doesn’t say anything, thinking, processing the question.

“I think…” he begins, uncertain. “I think the bond brings us together when we’re feeling vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable.” She repeats the word, considering it. “ _But to what purpose_?” She asks after a few moments of thought.

“I don’t know, Rey.” He says this a bit wearily, as if he’s tired of thinking about it. “I just don’t know.” It grows quiet again.

 _Vulnerable_ , she repeats the word again in her mind. She thinks about her day, about the state she was in when he appeared. She thinks about what might have happened if he didn’t. She thinks about what she’s doing right now, curled up in the arms of Kylo Ren. _Kylo Ren_. Supreme Leader. Dictator. Head of the First Order. Destroyer of worlds.

But… in this moment… that’s not who he is.

Is this it? Is this what the Force is up to? Is this what the bond is all about? Peeling back the layers of the monster so she can see the man underneath? And if so, why is this something she needs to see?

A wave of exhaustion, strong and heavy, overtakes her. These questions are too big for her now. Her mind is weak, tired. This problem, the question of the bond… it will have to wait until another day.

She closes her eyes softly, melting into him, melting into the warmth around her. She feels his breath, steady and deep, at her back. She concentrates on it… his chest rising and falling in a comforting rhythm. His arms are still wrapped around her and she feels him stroke her upper arm with his thumb ever so slightly. She lets out a sigh, long and satisfied. She feels herself begin to drift… drift away…  

Rey’s eyes fly open. She sits up, startled. The cave is darker, the fire just a bed of coals, glowing hot and red. She twists her head around, looking for him. But she knows he’s no longer here. She’s still wearing his coat, his waistband tied around her, and she sees his thick gloves discarded to the right. But he’s gone.

She feels colder now, not frozen like before, but… she misses his body heat. She sighs heavily, as if trying to expel all of the complicated emotions she feels rising within. She gets up on her knees to inspect the coals… She needs to get this fire going again.

She pushes herself up and begins making her way to the opening but stops once she gets there. Now that she’s closer, she sees it on the right… the pile of firewood he left for her. She kneels down and begins selecting pieces of wood, transferring them beside her, closer to the pit. As she does, her mind can’t help but review the day’s events, like a holograph in her mind.

The boy. The attack. The river. The bond. Him. Giving her his coat. Convincing her to hunker down for the night. Helping her collect firewood. Carrying her to safety when she collapsed. Building a fire. Thawing her limbs. Keeping her warm. Making sure she had what she needs to keep the fire going when he left.

She scoffs softly, disbelievingly.

Kylo Ren. _Kylo Ren._

The tall, menacing man in the black mask. The one who can pluck secrets from unwilling minds. The one who kills to get what he wants. The one who strikes fear in the hearts of so many.

The more the bond brings them together… the more she sees him like she did today… when she looks at him, she doesn’t see Kylo Ren anymore.

She just sees Ben.


	7. Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BB-8 is with Rey when the Force bond brings her together with Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "droids." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

Rey walks down the long, white hallway, absently guiding a hoverstretcher covered with odds and ends in front of her. 

There are stacks of supplies lining the edges of the hall, a lot less than there was a couple of weeks ago but there’s still a lot to get through. So much to unpack. So much to sort. So much to put away. 

She’s on Omega 9. It’s not the planet’s true name, but she’s taken to calling it that, even in her head. It’s just a codename. The Resistance refers to all of its base locations in code. Once they get this place in shape, it’s going to be their new, primary medical bay. 

Since Crait, the Resistance’s activities have pretty much been limited to the following— scavenging for supplies and equipment, repairing said equipment, establishing new bases, and recruiting. The last one is the most difficult because it tends to draw the First Order’s attention. And the General has been leery of putting Rey on recruiting duty again since the Denash debacle. 

No matter. She’s happy to have a break from being chased and shot at by Stormtroopers. When she was asked to help Rose and Poe set up this base, she jumped at the chance. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t here for more than three days before a recruiter on a nearby planet signaled for a rescue. Since the General advised Rey to lay low, Rose and Poe left without her and she stayed behind to continue setting things up. 

That was nine days ago. She’s been worried sick but finally heard from them yesterday. They’re all safe but can’t make their way back immediately. Poe said it will be another four days at least.

No matter. She has BB-8 for company. Four more days alone isn’t really that bad. 

And she has things to keep her busy. Like unpacking, organizing, repairing. And learning. This place is full of medical equipment and she’s taken this opportunity to educate herself as best she can. After all, with the Resistance’s numbers as low as they are, every member needs to be a jack-of-all-trades, of sorts. 

Still, she’ll be happy when Rose and Poe get back here. It’s strange to say that… she misses the sound of their voices. And their presence. It’s not like she’s a stranger to long stretches of time without conversation. She could go for months on Jakku without that. But at least on Jakku there was the daily ritual of bringing her finds to Niima outpost, cleaning them off next to other scavengers, overhearing conversations while standing in line to see Unkar Plutt. She’s not used to going so long without hearing so much as a peep from another biological lifeform. 

No offense to BB-8. That plucky little droid has more personality than most  _people_ she knows.

As if on cue, she sees the droid roll out from a door to the left and head in her direction. It beeps a question at her as it nears. 

“I’m heading down to unit 3 for another pass at that medical droid,” Rey responds, gesturing to the parts and tools she’s placed on the hoverstretcher ahead of her.

BB-8 replies in a series of electronic noises as it passes. 

“Well, thanks for that vote of confidence,” Rey says sarcastically, glancing back at the droid now rolling on behind her. “You know, I might have more luck if I had help from, say…  _another droid_.” She emphasizes this like a suggestion. 

BB-8 beeps out a response without stopping. 

“Fine,” Rey calls back. “Take your time. But come to unit 3 when you’re done, ok?” 

The droid beeps in assent, still rolling away.  

She continues to guide the stretcher forward until she nears the unit 3 entrance. Then she angles the stretcher towards the door in the wide hallway. It opens automatically and she continues inside. 

It’s a narrow, rectangular room with a white table in the center and both overhead and lower compartments lining the walls on either side. The countertops are a mess— supplies and medical equipment strewn everywhere. And at the back, there’s a couple of auto-meds along with several hoverstretchers stacked on top of each other.  

Rey guides the stretcher to the medical droid still situated in front of the compartments to the left. She stops and changes a setting on the stretcher, then brings it slowly down to rest on the floor. She seats herself cross-legged in front of the droid and lets out a sigh. 

BB-8’s right. Fixing droids is not her forte. Especially not medical droids. She’s been working on this thing for days and getting  _nowhere_.  

But she’s not giving up. It’s just not her way. She’s learned over the years that with enough patience, dedication, and wits, she can figure anything out. Eventually.

She purses her lips, trying to decide where to start. 

Her shoulders droop as another pang of loneliness tugs at her chest. 

 _Stop being silly_ , she tells herself.  _Just four more days. It’s nothing. Focus on your work and it’ll pass before you know it._

She sighs again and turns to her right to rifle through the parts on the stretcher.

In an instant, she freezes. She remains absolutely still, expectant. 

She’s starting to get better at this— recognizing when the bond is about to bring them together. It used to take her a few seconds before she could identify that creeping feeling for what it is. Now, she’s aware of it practically the moment it hits her. 

It starts deep in her core, then it grows out into her chest, her stomach, and her limbs. It rises and rises until the sound around her mutes. Then it comes back. And when it does, he’s there. 

She sits quietly for a few moments. Finally, she scoots herself around on the floor, still cross-legged.

He’s standing on the other side of the table, arms at his sides, face neutral. She senses he’s… feeling down in some way. Not entirely unlike herself. 

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” he responds in kind. 

They stare at each other in silence for a minute

It’s weird to say that this is starting to feel almost… routine? Well, not routine exactly. It’s still a surprise. But it’s happened enough times to where she’s starting to get used to it. It’s not welcome. It’s not unwelcome. It just is what it is. 

Rey uncrosses her legs and rises to her knees. She begins to stand but halts abruptly when she hears a sound in the hallway.

BB-8 rolls into the room then stops just inside. Both of their heads snap towards the droid. 

For a moment, everyone freezes. 

Finally, BB-8’s head swings up towards Ben, then towards Rey. Then to Ben again, then to Rey again. Ben, then Rey. It does this several times. Finally, it speaks in beeps and whirs. 

Immediately, Rey gasps and flies towards the droid, dropping to the floor just in front of it. 

“BB-8, you can see him?!” She asks intently, pointing back to Ben. The droid chirps a confirmation. Rey looks briefly to Ben, then back at the droid. 

“What is he?” She asks, leaning in, eagerly awaiting a reply. BB-8 answers. 

Rey gasps again, shooting up to her feet. 

“ _A human male_ ,” she repeats enthusiastically, excited by the discovery. She turns back towards Ben. 

“Do you know what this means?” She asks, taking a step towards him. He shakes his head no, almost imperceptibly. “It means you are actually,  _physically_  here.” 

“I think that’s pretty well established at this point, Rey,” he replies dryly. 

“ _No_ ,” she stresses with a hint of annoyance. “We’ve established that you can see my surroundings and touch things. We haven’t established that you are  _actually here_  in the sense that a droid or other synthetics can read your vitals.”

Rey’s head jerks back, an idea just popping into her head.

They are completely alone in a base  _absolutely full_  of medical equipment. When are they ever going to have this chance again? Possibly never.

Rey takes another step towards Ben, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.

“Would you…” she starts hesitantly, titling her head to the side, “be willing…  _perhaps_ … to let me run some tests on you?”  

He narrows his eyes. “What kinds of tests?” 

“Oh, just standard medical procedures. Nothing complicated,” she assures him, taking another step forward. His eyes are still narrowed in doubt. 

“ _Oh, come on!_ ” She goads him, releasing her arms to the side. “This is a one-time opportunity! No one else is here except for BB-8 and we’re in a  _medical bay_. Aren’t you curious about the bond, about how it’s been growing? This is the perfect time to test its limits, see exactly how  _physically here_  you really are.” She looks up at him entreatingly. He stares back, arms crossed, black eyes still guarded. 

“Come on,” she repeats again softly. He breaks his gaze, looking up to the ceiling briefly before looking back down at her. He sighs heavily. 

“Fine.” He says with resignation. 

Rey smiles in triumph. “Perfect.” She turns and begins looking around the room, making a mental list of what she wants to gather. 

“Ok…” she starts. “Take off your coat and sit down.” She points to a chair next to the table beside him. He removes his waistband as she walks over to the countertop to her left, beginning to shift through equipment strewn across it. She hears BB-8 roll up behind her, beeping a question.

“Uh…” She searches her brain, trying to figure out the best way to respond. “He is…” she starts confidently but her voice trails off. BB-8 supplies an answer. 

“No,” Rey replies with a breathless scoff. “He’s not a friend.” She turns and walks forward to place a couple of things on the table. She sees Ben has taken off his coat and is now in a thin, long-sleeved undershirt. BB-8 supplies another answer.

Immediately, Rey whips around to face the compartments again, blushing furiously despite the fact she knows Ben can’t understand the droid. 

“No, he’s definitely not  _that_ ,” she hisses under her breath, shooting BB-8 a look as she walks back to the counter to gather more supplies. The droid lets out another series of beeps, confused. 

“He’s just… an acquaintance. A guest, alright. Does that satisfy you?” She asks exasperated. The droid pauses a moment, then chirps once. Rey rolls her eyes. 

“Well, that answer will just have to do you for now.” She turns to lay out more equipment. Ben’s sitting back in the chair, one hand resting on the table, waiting, following her with his eyes. 

“Ok,” Rey begins, collecting her thoughts, hands on her hips, examining the equipment she’s gathered before her. She purses her lips and brings her right thumb to rest against them, scanning the table, thinking. 

“Ah!” She exclaims, reaching out to grab a probe. She makes her way over to Ben’s side of the table. “Roll up your sleeve,” she commands, fiddling with the probe, not looking at him. 

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” his deep voice intones suddenly. She looks up at him. He’s eying the probe suspiciously. “Rey, I’m not giving you a blood sample.” 

Her shoulders drop, frustrated. “What do you think I’m going to do?  _Clone you?_ ”   

“No blood samples,” he repeats firmly, black eyes fixed on hers. “No fluid samples of any kind. I’m not having my DNA lying around… wherever the hell this is.”

Rey lets out an exhale. 

“Fine,” she says, turning to set the probe down on the table. “We’ll start with something simpler.” She examines the equipment for a few seconds before reaching for a medisensor. She strolls absently back to Ben, device in hand, trying to remember how to turn it on. She flips it to the back then the front again. Ah! There it is. 

She presses the button and the small rectangular screen comes to life. 

“Alright, scoot back from the table,” she waves a hand at him dismissively, still focused on the sensor. She hears the chair scrape against the floor. She looks up at him. He’s eyeing her, amused. What’s he so entertained by?

She ignores him, walking behind him, pointing the handheld sensor to the back of his head.

“Actually, I think you need to stand up,” she says. He sighs but does as she asks, rising from the chair. She begins to scan all sides of his body, starting from the top and sweeping down to the bottom. BB-8 watches, rolling back and forth slightly as she makes her way around Ben. 

“This is incredible,” she says finally after she’s scanned him thoroughly. “It’s picking up everything— heartbeat, body temperature, brain waves, blood pressure—” She stops suddenly. “Hmmm,” she murmurs thoughtfully, to herself more than anyone else. 

“What?” He looks down at her, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says quickly, turning around to return the medisensor to the table. “You can sit down now.” She feels his eyes on her as he retakes his seat. She rifles through a few things before picking up an auscultator. She examines the device thoughtfully as she walks back towards him, trying to remember how it works. 

“Ok,” she says decisively after a few seconds. “I’m going to press this against the left side of your chest, right over your heart.” She begins to bring the device towards him but stops when BB-8 interrupts her.

“Oh, right,” she looks down at the droid. “Thanks.” She looks back up to Ben. 

“Take off your shirt,” she commands curtly. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t be  _weird_  about it.” Rey rolls her eyes. “BB-8 says I have to apply this directly to your skin. You can put it right back on after I’m done.” She gives him a terse nod. His gaze lingers on her for a moment, then he does as she says, lifting his long-sleeved shirt up and over his head, casting it on the table. 

She looks down at him and immediately looks away, fixing her eyes on the auscultator in her hand.

She should have skipped this one. But it’s too late now. 

She takes a breath, kneeling down before him. She applies the auscultator directly over his heart at his left pectoral. She tries to focus on the device in her hand,  _not_  his chest,  _not_  his abdominals,  _not_  his arms. 

_Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Do not blush. **Do not**  blush, Rey. I’m not kidding. No blushing. _

Despite her brain’s commands, her cheeks begin to heat up. He’s watching her. She can practically _feel_  him smirking down at her. 

The moment the device beeps in completion, she shoots up and whips around.

“Put your shirt back on,” she says urgently. She hears him take his sweet time following her order. BB-8 beeps, a bit confused, at her side. 

“No need to scan other organs. One’s quite enough for now.” She waves the droid away impatiently. She shifts through more medical equipment on the table.

“Well, your heart’s in good shape,” she announces, walking towards him with another device. 

“Pull up your sleeve until about the middle of your upper arm,” she commands. He sighs impatiently and begins pulling up his sleeve. Despite all of his sighing and eye rolling, she can sense he’s enjoying the attention. 

She leans down to snap the circular device around his arm. It gradually tightens for about thirty seconds before releasing. She unsnaps the device and brings it up to her face to read the results. 

“Hmmm,” she says thoughtfully.

“What?” He asks with a hint of concern. 

“Oh nothing,” she replies, placing the device back on the table.

“ _Rey…_ ” He draws out her name expectantly.

“Well… it’s just that,” she starts hesitantly. Then she stops to take a breath. “This is the second device to indicate that your blood pressure is higher than average.” She looks over at him quizzically. “What’s your diet like?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he replies dryly. 

“Have your stress levels increased at all lately?” She continues. 

“Not really.” Despite his even tone, she can sense he’s lying. 

“What about your sleep? Has that been at all irregular?” She hears him exhale in exasperation, starting to grow more agitated. 

“No,” he says impatiently. Another lie. 

“Do you ever find that you have trouble controlling your temper?” 

“ _No!_ ” He practically barks this at her. Rey’s eyes widen and BB-8 turns its head slowly up towards him. Ben looks around, a little sheepishly. 

“No,” he says again, more calmly this time. 

“O-K,” Rey articulates each syllable. BB-8 lets out a whistle. She glances down at the droid for a split second, and they share a knowing look.

Ben sits back in his chair, crossing his arms, looking annoyed. “When did this turn into a full-on medical exam?” He asks peevishly. “Haven’t you found what you were looking for yet?” 

She cocks her head to the right in concession. “I suppose I have,” she says. “According to  _all_  of this equipment,” she gestures to the medical devices in front of her, “you are physically here in this room. I could perform surgery on you right now if I wanted to.” She plops down on a seat near him at the head of the table. 

“Please don’t.” He eyes her warily as he sits up and reaches for his coat. He begins to slip it back on and she rests an elbow on the table, propping her chin on her palm. 

“Do you still have the coat I gave you last time?” He asks, wrapping his waistband around him. 

She nods absently, looking down. “And your gloves. So its confirmed we can exchange things through the bond now.”

He nods his head back in acknowledgment. A few moments of silence pass.  

“You don’t seem satisfied.” He states this almost like a question.

“Well,” she begins, letting out a great exhale. She brings her palm down and sits back in her chair. “We still don’t have any real answers about what’s going on here.” She sighs wearily, eyebrows furrowed. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Rey gazing out at nothing, Ben staring at the floor, arms crossed, and BB-8 bobbing back and forth lightly next to Rey.  

“So, what is this? Where are you?” Ben finally breaks the silence. “Don’t tell me.” He leans forward with a glint in his eye, uncrossing his arms and resting them on the table. “You’ve left the Resistance and are now are now the most ill-trained medical professional in the galaxy.” 

Rey rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning upward slightly. She looks over at him cheekily. “None of your b—”

“Business,” he finishes for her, sitting back. “I know, I know.” He flits his head in annoyance and re-crosses his arms. 

She sighs, looking away. A few more seconds of awkward silence pass. 

“I’ve been here alone for nine days,” she confesses abruptly. She’s not sure why… 

“That explains a lot.” He raises his eyebrows briefly but doesn’t look at her. 

“What do you mean?” She juts her chin up and looks over at him, squinting one eye.

He scoffs softly. “You’re not usually so happy to see me.” He looks over at her with the faintest hint of a smile. “You must be desperate for company.” He narrows his eyes teasingly. BB-8 suddenly whines beside Rey. 

“Sorry droid.” Ben glances down at it briefly. 

Rey sits up, resting her forearms on the table, not denying this. She knows it’s true. She bites the inside of her lip, thinking for a moment.

“Sooo,” she draws out the word to begin with. “What’s the longest _you’ve_ ever been without any human interaction or contact at all?” She looks up at him pointedly. 

He immediately sits up, cocking his head, caught off guard but intrigued by the question. He twitches his jaw and looks up at the ceiling, eyes flitting rapidly as if reviewing a catalogue of memories. Suddenly he jerks his head back and nods, uncrossing his arms. 

“Fifty-six days,” he announces definitively.

“ _What!?_ ” Rey gapes, eyes wide, dumfounded.  

He shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant.  

“For what possible reason would you be completely alone for  _fifty-six whole days_?” She scoots forward with her chair. “What? Another one of Snoke’s trials?” 

“No.” He gives a firm shake of his head, leaning towards her a bit. “That was with the Jedi.” 

Her eyes widen in shock as she leans forward, eager for an explanation. 

“Practiced solitude was part of our training,” He begins. “We started small. All of us would go off into the mountains on our own for three days. Then a week. Then two weeks. You get the idea.” He shakes his head dismissively. “The whole point was to learn to be alone. To embrace solitude. It’s not an entirely ridiculous concept.” He raises an eyebrow with a sarcastic glint. “The Jedi philosophy isn’t  _complete_  bullshit.”   

Rey grunts and looks down. She bobs her head slightly from side to side, processing this. She straightens again, bringing her shoulders back and down, looking at him with intense curiosity. “What’s the idea behind embracing solitude? What did the Jedi teach about it?”  

“It’s supposed to be about learning how to identify the patterns of reality, the rhythm of the Force,” Ben explains. “But one can only do this in the absence of all noise, arguments, contrivance, demands…” His voice trails off and his face twitches in doubt. “I never understood that aspect of it, really. But it did teach me to be self-sufficient,” he says, leaning forward. 

“Well, I know all about that,” Rey declares confidently.

His eyes narrow with a hint of challenge. He leans in a little more. “Do you?” He intones in a low voice. 

She glares at him, steely-eyed. 

Suddenly the lights in the room flicker and everyone looks up. 

“BB-8, is that the generator?” Rey looks down at the droid. It rolls its head around towards her, beeping an uncertain response.

“Wonderful.” She sighs, dropping her shoulders. “Not again.” She rises from her seat and begins moving to the entrance but BB-8 cuts her off, racing towards the door, beeping urgently. 

“Fine, fine,” Rey says, turning back around. “You do it. I wouldn’t want to mess up any of your precious work.” She sits down, letting out an annoyed sigh. “That droid can be so finicky sometimes.” She looks over at Ben.

He’s crossing his arms again, sitting back in the chair, looking out thoughtfully. Rey sits back, crossing her arms as well. 

“So, you think I’m not self-sufficient?” She challenges him, jutting her chin up. 

“I think you know how to survive on your own,” he says, gazing over at her coolly.

“And what’s the difference between that and self-sufficiency?” She squints her eyes, confused. 

“Desire,” he answers succinctly. “Want. Need.” He shifts forward again, leaning over the table. “The Jedi taught that the highest form of solitude was the absence of need. The ability to just be alone, and desire nothing more.” He glances at her and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is that right?” Rey asks with slight huff, sitting up. “Well then, perhaps you should have completed your Jedi training. I’m not the only one here who struggles with loneliness.” She sees a flash of vulnerability flicker across his eyes. He sits back, looking away from her. 

A minute of tense silence passes. 

“Ben,” Rey begins in a soft tone. He doesn’t look up. “Do you really think…  _needing_  people is such a bad thing?” He still doesn’t look up. He just twitches his jaw, eyes dark with thought. 

“I think,” he starts slowly, “that needing people is a weakness.” 

Rey closes her eyes and bows her head. “No, it’s not,” she says quietly. “It’s just human.” 

After a moment, she looks over at him. He’s gazing at her, those black eyes deep with that same emotion. The one from the hut on Ahch-To. The one from the throne room. The one she’s seen many times since. The one that makes her heart stop in her chest. 

Longing.

Of course, he needs people. She feels that every time the bond brings them together. Perhaps that’s the purpose of the bond for him. To remind him of that. 

Without quite thinking about what she’s doing, Rey turns up her right palm and slides it across the table towards him. His head jerks back slightly, a bit surprised. She keeps her gaze as he looks back at her, uncertain, almost afraid. Then, slowly, he begins to extend his arm. He takes her hand gently, sliding his fingers over hers. She squeezes lightly with her thumb, tilting her head, looking at him with soft assurance. 

One small moment. Once innocent touch. Yet such a powerful reminder that its ok to need people. 

He squeezes back and suddenly all the turbulence and conflict she normally sees raging in his eyes subsides. Instead he just looks… satisfied. Satisfied to be in this moment. With her. Satisfied share a connection with another person. Satisfied to actually be… seen.  _Truly_  seen.

An instant later, she gasps, sitting up, jarred when he disappears abruptly before her eyes, her hand curled around his one second, empty the next. 

Rey sits back, shaking her head briskly, as if awakening from a daydream. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She looks ahead at the chair where he was, fighting a pang in her chest, a part of her wishing he were still here. She drums her fingers on the table for a moment, then rises, determined, wiping a hand over her face. 

She needs a distraction.  _Badly_. She turns to walk towards the broken medical droid. Suddenly she hears BB-8 roll into the room behind her. 

“Did you fix the problem with the generators?” She asks, sitting down next to the stretcher. BB-8 beeps a reply then asks a question.

“He’s gone,” she replies. “And I told you, he’s not my friend,” Rey briefly shoot the droid a look. It rolls near her, chirping a protest. 

She scoffs, then lets out a laugh. “What do you mean I’m wrong according to your  _relationship analytics_?” She asks in a mocking tone. BB-8 answers curtly. 

“What criteria?” She leans towards the droid, eyebrows knitted. BB-8 begins to list the criteria for its programmed definition of friendship in a series of electronic noises. Rey follows along, listening intently, nodding every so often. 

“Mm hmm… ok… true, I guess… alright.” Suddenly, she snaps back, looking down at the droid accusingly. “We did not share personal stories!” BB-8 rolls closer to her, beeping earnestly. 

“Oh yeah,” Rey’s shoulders drop. She looks down sheepishly. “Go on.” She nods towards the droid, slightly agitated. BB-8 quickly finishes its analysis, ending with a triumphant series of beeps. 

Rey processes for a few seconds, then begins shaking her head slowly. “Wait a minute.” She tilts to the right, confused, looking down at BB-8. “What do you mean you’ve classified us as ‘Friends, Question Mark’? What’s the question mark for?” BB-8 answers matter-of-factly. 

“ _What!?_ ” Rey blusters loudly, shooting up to her feet, glaring down at the droid. “ _Sexual tension!?”_

She flies by the droid, marching straight for the door “That’s it,” she declares decisively, BB-8 rolling swiftly behind her to catch up. “Your programming on human relationships obviously is in dire need of a tune up. You are  _completely_  off base.” She waves her hand emphatically, striding swiftly down the hallway. BB-8 beeps urgently behind her. 

“ _No_ , I’m not going to do that now. I don’t even know how to do it. I’ll just mention it to Poe when he gets back.” The droid beeps cheerily in response. 

“Whoa!” Rey halts abruptly, dropping down before the droid, looking at it intently, a twinge of panic in her chest. “You cannot tell  _anyone_  about what you saw here today, about my…  _friend._   _Ok?_ ” Her voice is pleading, eyes desperate. The droid jerks its head back, as if considering her request. Finally, its head rolls forward to nod deeply in assent. 

“Thank you.” Rey lets out an exhale. Her shoulders relax a bit. She takes a deep breath, collecting herself, and rises. She turns a heel to continue her path down the hall. 

“Come on, BB-8!” She calls back at the droid. “I want you to show me what you did to those generators.” 

BB-8 lingers for a moment, turning its head back towards the unit 3 entrance as if waiting for someone else to walk into the hallway. A few seconds pass. It slowly rolls its head back towards Rey, then begins to follow swiftly after her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have time, please leave a comment. Your feedback is very appreciated fuel to my writing. Like what you're reading? Want to read more? Then let me know what you think!


	8. Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren struggles to find a worthy opponent to train with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "food." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

The cadet flies through the air, then hits the wall behind him with a loud crack. He drops several feet to the ground with a thud, face down.  

Weak, staccato croaks eek out of his throat. The wind’s been knocked out of him. He can’t breathe. So, he just lies there, arms splayed at his sides, forehead to the floor, wheezing painfully for a minute.

Finally, precious air begins to seep in. The exploding pressure in his lungs subsides enough for him to check in with the rest of his body.

It aches. All over. And the more he breathes, the more he feels a sharp, cutting pain in his lower right chest. He must’ve broken a rib.

The sound of combat still fills the space around him— grunting, panting, the cracking of melee weapons, cries that start loud then die out as they seem to travel across the room.

Still lying prostrate, the cadet finally turns his head to the right to catch a glimpse of the scene. All he sees is the blue of the matted floor and a blur of black motion— limbs and quarterstaffs swinging wildly. He turns his head back to the left and rests it down.

He could get up now. Rejoin the fight. In any other situation, he would without hesitation.

But in this case, the wisest decision would be to stay right where he is. Pretend he’s unconscious. If he gets up, he’ll just end up right back on the floor, possibly with another broken rib. No, there’s no good reason to put his body through such abuse for a fight he can’t win. Better to preserve his—

“Goooh!”

He feels the wind knocked out of him again when the full weight of another cadet lands on his back.

The training room falls quiet. No more cries. No more kicks. No more melee. Only panting and muted groans. Eight bodies lie in a circular pattern, some struggling to stand again, most just trying to catch a breath. One figure stands in the middle.

Kylo Ren flings his quarterstaff to the side as though he’s angry with it. He turns, taking a look around the room.

That was pathetic. He should have used droids.

But he always uses droids. Just _once_ he wanted to train with sentients, actual living, breathing things. Maybe there’d be surprise or two.

But, of course there wasn’t. Battle precognition is the problem. In a fight, his Force senses are heightened so that he can detect every move his opponent will make before he makes it.

He handicaps this advantage by fighting multiple opponents at once. It can work. It’s worked before. Given that the opponents can do more than regurgitate their training exactly as they learned it...

He grunts and wipes the sweat from his face, turning to walk to the side of the room to grab a towel.

These are supposedly Hux’s _best_ cadets. _Best_. And he laid them out in five minutes. What an utter disappointment. More than that. He comes to the training room to _forget_ about the incompetence that plagues this organization. Now he can’t think about anything but the fact that he’s had a harder time fighting off Rodian brawlers than these fools.

He wipes his face and hair with the towel.

He’ll have to talk to Hux about this. Review their training regimen. What he just experienced is nowhere _near_ what he expects from the best of the First Order.

“Sir.” A cadet from behind addresses him, trying to sound confident. He’s failing. The man stinks of fear. “Would you like to go again?” Kylo shakes his head and sighs.

“Get out,” he says in a low voice without turning around.

He doesn’t hear the man move. He seems to just stand there.

“ _Get out!_ ” He barks loudly, swinging around to face him this time.

The cadet flinches, taking a step back. Then he turns to order the rest of the cadets to leave. They all peel themselves from the floor, returning their weapons, and hobbling out swiftly. Not a minute later, the room is dead silent.

Kylo strides over to a built-in comm and presses a button.

“Bring me four sentry droids,” he commands. He turns away, then abruptly whips around to press the button again. “No, six.” He casts the towel to the side, walking to the washing station, trying to take a deep, measured breath.

This has been a catastrophically bad day after a string of bad days. He feels that burning itch in his body… like fire in the blood. He needs _some_ sort of release to regain a modicum of control over his raging desire _to kill_ every source of incompetence he encounters.

 Suddenly, he hears a door whir open behind him.

“I thought I told you to—” He stops after he turns around to see the visitor is not a cadet. It’s an orderly carrying a trey covered in what looks like mostly fruits and vegetables, a heaping mass of green peppered with red and orange.

“What the hell is that?” His voice is deadly even.

The orderly gulps but still stands up straight. “Sir, the Head of Nutrition asked me to bring this to you. She noticed that you didn’t eat anything this afternoon. Or this morning.” He pauses for a moment. “Or yesterday.” At this, Kylo lets out a low growl and turns his back to the man.

“Just because she isn’t able to catalogue every one of my meals doesn’t mean I’m not eating,” he snipes back at him.

“Sir,” the orderly begins again. “The Head of Nutrition asked me to remind you that a liquid diet does not provide the human body with all of the vitamins and minerals it needs. She told me to tell you that certain nutrients can only be absorbed through solid food and to encourage you to—”

In an instant, Kylo Force-slams the trey of food across the room, some of it landing on the floor, some of it landing on the shelves of martial equipment on the wall.

“GET OUT!” He rages at the orderly with full-throated fury. The man immediately turns to run.

“And tell that witch if she ever tries to manage my eating habits again, I’ll blast her into space with the evening garbage dump!” Kylo barely finishes yelling this before the door whirs shut. He charges over to the entrance and changes a setting so no one can enter the room without his _express_ permission.

Then, for a full minute, he just stands still, jaw set, fists clenched, feeling the blood raging through his veins.

Finally, he moves, covering his eyes with a palm and taking a long, deep inhale. He slides his hand over his face slowly as though trying to reset himself. He takes another inhale, turning towards the back wall again. He walks forward several paces, shoulders tense and hunched, looking down but at nothing in particular. _Where the hell are those sentry droids?_

Suddenly, he jerks back, caught off guard. He’d been too preoccupied, too lost in himself, to recognize that familiar feeling welling from within, creeping yet warm. It overwhelms him, his senses, then melts away.

And just like that, he’s not alone anymore.

He turns around to face his unexpected guest.

Rey’s not looking in his direction but up and around at the room, turning to face the wall behind her. “Is this a training room?” She asks curiously, stepping forward to examine the weapons and equipment.

“Hello to you, too,” he answers dryly, crossing his arms and taking several steps towards her. She briefly twists her head around to give him a cursory greeting nod, then turns back to continue her inspection. She steps to the left, walking next to the wall, briefly touching each weapon as she passes, examining some more thoroughly than others. He regards her silently as she does this.

Rey has become strangely… _comfortable_ with the bond. Or at least she’s no longer angry or wary of him the moment it brings them together. These days, she’s more curious than anything else.

She stops to pick up a piece of fruit from a shelf. She turns around to look at the rest of fruits and vegetables strewn across this side of the room. She looks up at him, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Why is there food on the floor?” She asks, pointing down.

“An accident,” he lies. She narrows her eyes in doubt and looks down again. She crouches and picks up a couple of leafy greens. Then she leans over to grab the trey and places the greens on top of it. She stands and begins stooping down, picking up bits of food and dropping them on the trey.

“Rey, what are you doing?” He grunts, looking down at her, bemused. “We have cleaning droids for this.”

She shrugs, continuing her progress. “Well excuse me for not leaving every menial task up to a droid. Besides, this looks like perfectly good food. There are people  _starving_  on Jakku right now, you know.”

“ _Rey_.” He draws out her name, stepping forward and uncrossing his arms. “This food has been on the floor. No one’s eating it.”

“ _What!?_ ” She snaps up and around to face him, incredulous. “Not even an animal? It’s just going in the bin?” Her face is awash with both disbelief and scorn. He shrugs, tilting his head briefly to the side in response. 

“What a waste!” She declares, looking away and continuing to gather food from the floor. She picks up a carrot and brings it close her face, eyeing it, perplexed. “And this isn’t even rations! It’s organic stuff, clearly. I haven’t even seen some of these kinds before. Like this one.” She turns to look up at him, brown eyes glistening with a question.

“That’s a carrot,” he tells her, stepping forward and clasping his hands behind his back. She nods her head and places it on the trey. Then she points to a green.

He steps closer to her. “Spigage,” he says. She points to another green.

“Celto.”

She nods her head, then turns to resume picking up the food from the floor. He watches her, head cocked, intrigued. He can’t stop a faint smile from tugging at the corner of his lips.

She’s so powerful, so confident. Sometimes he forgets she’s lived the vast majority of her life on one planet, a resource- and culture-deprived one at that. In fact, he’s seen a sizable chunk of her memories. He knows exactly how monotonous her life really was. Everything’s so new to her. He can’t help but be charmed by her innocence.

Rey’s picked up all the bits from the floor and is now inspecting the food on the shelves, holding one side of the trey to her hip with her left hand and picking out fruit with her right. “So orange!” she exclaims, bringing up the round, fleshy orb in front of her.

“That’s what it’s called, actually.” She looks up at him as he walks forward to stand next to her, hands still clasped behind his back.

“Good name, then.” She looks back at it, lingering a little longer instead of placing it on the trey.

“Do you want to try it?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Can I?” Her eyes snap up to his.

“Of course.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’ll just be thrown out otherwise.”

Rey shakes her head disapprovingly and walks to a corner of the training room. “I still can’t believe that,” she calls back at him, setting the trey down on the floor. She stands and leans her back against the wall, inspecting the orange thoughtfully.

“You need to peel the flesh first.” He walks towards her, extending a hand. She gives him the fruit, eyeing him expectantly, and watches as he pierces it with his thumb and peels back a strip of orange. He hands it back to her. She takes it eagerly, eyes bright, and peels back enough flesh to dislodge a slice from the center. She’s surprised when a few dribbles of juice trickle down the fruit to her hand, then drip to the floor.

“Sorry.” She glances up at him, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head dismissively. She kneels down to place the rest of the fruit on the trey, then brings the slice to her mouth. She bites into it tentatively. She immediately sits up, covering her mouth with her right fingertips. She chews for a moment then swallows.

“It’s mostly water!” She exclaims. “But it’s good. Almost too sweet. Do want to try?” She looks up at him, extending her hand to offer the rest of the slice. He shakes his head decisively.

“No, I don’t eat that.” He turns and walks across the room to the entrance. It occurs to him that those sentry droids should be here by now.

“Why not?” Rey calls out after finishing the slice. “You don’t like oranges?”

“No, I don’t eat solid food,” he informs her without turning back. “Everything I consume is liquid.”

“Really?” He hears her stand and begin to walk his way. “Why?”

“Because it’s more efficient.” He stops at the comm next to the entrance and looks over at her. “Food’s just fuel, Rey. I don’t eat to enjoy it.”

She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows in surprise. “I can’t say I identify with that attitude. I ate practically the same thing every day on Jakku and still looked forward to it.” He’s not looking at her anymore but at the comm. He presses a button.

“Where are the sentry droids?” He demands.

Silence.

More silence.

“You know…” He hears Rey behind him. “One of the medics was telling me the other day that there are some nutrients that can only be absorbed by eating solid food.” He stiffens and pushes out an exhale, rolling his eyes.

“My apologies, your grace,” a voice finally answers on the other end of the comm. “We’ve had a bit of a mix up. They’ll arrive shortly. In less than three minutes.” Kylo sets his jaw. _Incompetence abounds._

“Soo…” Rey speaks up again. He turns his head towards her. Her arms are still crossed and she’s looking up at him with narrow eyes, uncertain, as though she’s trying to work out a problem. “What exactly do you enjoy, if not eating?”  

“ _This_.” He straightens, gesturing around the training room emphatically. “If I could find a damn opponent worth fighting.” He lets out a frustrated exhale, looking back at the comm. A moment of silence passes.

“I’ll fight you.” His head snaps to Rey. She shrugs her shoulders, nonchalant. He twitches his jaw, considering this.

“No,” he decides, turning back to the comm. He hears Rey grunt softly behind him.

“Probably for the best.” Her voice is condescending. “We both know how it would’ve turned out.”

Kylo turns his head towards Rey slowly.

“I’d beat you.” She says this flatly, expression neutral. He straightens and turns his body to face her fully, eyes narrowing, half mocking, half disbelieving.

“Firstly,” he takes a step towards her, “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.” He takes another step, towering over her small form below. “And secondly,” he leans down a little, “you wouldn’t beat me.” Rey maintains eye contact, unfazed.

“Actually, I _would_ beat you.” She takes a step towards him, brown eyes lit with intensity. “Because, firstly, unlike you, I actually eat properly. Secondly, I’ve beaten you before. And thirdly,” she juts her chin up slightly, “I know all your best moves.”

He glares down at her, provoked, indecisive. She squints her eyes in challenge.

Suddenly they both straighten, jarred by the sound of the comm.

“The sentry droids have arrived, sir. Shall we bring them in?”

Kylo glances at the wall, then back at Rey. He stares down at her for a few moments. Then he turns to walk over to the comm and press a button. “No. Put them back where they came from,” he commands curtly.  

He turns towards Rey again. She looks smug, as though she’s already won the fight. He strides over to a rack of weapons attached to the wall. He removes a quarterstaff and tosses it to her. She catches it easily.

“Really?” She looks down at the staff in surprise, then looks up, raising her eyebrows. “Now, you’re definitely going to lose.” She whips the staff around in a series of well-practiced moves, then halts abruptly, staring at him with a glint of absolute certainty.

He grunts softly, amused by her overconfidence. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he dislodges another staff from the wall. He begins striding to the center of the room, whipping his own staff expertly around him. She turns and follows him to the center, maintaining eye contact. She looks cocky, almost playful, staff vertical, pressed firmly to her side, tucked slightly behind her back.

They stand a few paces apart, bodies facing one another, taut and battle-ready. Rey lets her head roll back slightly, lids drifting over her eyes. She looks relaxed yet watchful, ready to spring into action on a dime. He stands tall, gripping the staff dead center in his right hand, gazing down at her with cool, even eyes.  

Rey steps out to the side with her left foot, sliding the right foot across the floor to meet it. She does this again, moving slyly, the smooth angles of body curving like a snake. He steps to the left as well, bringing his staff behind him, watching her, enjoying the pre-fight tension.

They circle each other for a minute. Rey begins to twirl the staff around her body. She appears to do this absently, halfheartedly, and yet he can sense that every movement— the lightest twitch of her wrist, tilting the staff slightly one way or another— is done with intention. It might as well be a third arm, and extension of her body, the way she effortlessly controls its movements with such precision.

He still circles her, her opposite. While she’s a constant flurry of motion, he’s almost completely still, muscles loose, relaxed, shoulders down. He feels her begin to grow impatient.

He continues to circle her calmly, gaze neutral, mind clear. She grows more impatient. He stares at her, unblinking.

In an instant, she lunges forward, right edge of her staff striking towards his core. He moves almost exactly when she does, whipping his staff around to cut her off from below, pushing forcefully up then forward, knocking her back a few steps.

She doesn’t skip a beat, striking again and again, at his head, his arm, his side— swiftly, precisely— but he senses every move before she makes it, blocking with little effort.

As she whips the staff around towards his neck, he sees an opening. He leans away from the blow then immediately sweeps his staff under her, abruptly knocking her flat on her back to the ground. She tries to rise but finds the right edge of his staff at her neck. She looks up at him, eyes wide, surprised.

He winks at her provokingly.

Now she’s angry.

She fumes, knocking his staff to the side, swinging her legs around to propel a leap into a crouched position. She flies at him, whirling the staff around her, creating audible wind as she does. She’s a flurry of motion, striking hard, fast, and all over.

The room is filled with the cracking of their staffs as she takes the full offensive, raining down blows so quickly he can only block, nothing more. She strikes, and he defends. To the untrained eye, she’d appear to be the one in control, seeming to wear him down but actually it’s the opposite. He’s just playing with her, purposefully taking the defensive. For now, he’ll enjoy himself as he watches her go, swinging and thrashing adeptly, with excellent form, he must admit.

But eventually, he’ll get bored and she’ll get tired. And when that happens, he’ll crush her.

Suddenly, she rears back and somersaults over his head. He barely whips around in time to fend off a strike from above. She lands lightly on both feet, then lunges to the left, bringing her staff around to strike. She ducks unexpectedly, swinging her staff around to the right instead.

He feels a sharp pain explode on the side of his body, just under his ribs. He sucks in a breath and stomps forward, swinging his staff overhead with a strike so hard that whistles as it cuts through the air.

But it misses Rey, who ducks and dodges to his left, then forward flips a couple of times away. She lands and immediately twists around to face him.

Now she looks smug.

He must admit, he’s impressed. She’s not like a droid— they’re versatile but too predictable. And she’s not like most sentients. Most are like droids, except less precise, relying on rote training without deviation. No, she’s more creative, guided by instinct rather than logic. She moves without thinking, as though surrendering her body to the rhythm of the fight, guided by muscle memory, letting it react to the energy around her. Like him, she seems to have a kind of precognition, detecting his move before he makes it and surprising him by suddenly changing course in the moment.

They begin to circle one another again, whirling the staffs around them, each eying the other intently, trying to read their next move.

In an instant, they lunge forward at the same time. Once again, loud cracks fill the air as they thrash and dodge, leap and duck, strike and block, moving rhythmically throughout the room in something that can only be described as a kind of dance.

He sweeps his staff below and she hops over it. She swings hard at his neck and he leans back to miss the blow. He kicks swiftly across and she ducks just in time. She aims a strike at his core but he sidesteps it. Her staff slips in between his arm and his body, and he immediately presses his elbow into his side, fixing her staff in place then twisting hard to the right, knocking Rey off balance and loosening her grip on the staff.  

Before she realizes what’s happening, his grabs her right wrist and jerks her to him, twisting her arm behind her back. Her staff drops to the floor. Now he has her pinned to him, holding her in place with one arm gripping her body firmly, her right arm trapped between her back and his chest. She grunts and jerks, trying to break free. He clutches her more tightly.

“You know,” he says in a low voice as she struggles against him, “Even though you can’t beat me, you really are better than a droid.”

“Thanks.” The words don’t leave her lips before he’s surprised by a sharp pain exploding over his right foot then another one at his stomach on the left side. The shock of it is enough to cause him to loosen his grip slightly, and that’s all she needs.

In an almost instantaneous motion, she whips her knees up into her chest then kicks down hard, loosening his grip even more. She wriggles her right arm free and jabs another elbow into his stomach, the right side this time. She slips away, escaping his hold and rolling forward, grabbing her quarterstaff as she does.

She springs up, twisting around and raising her staff up with both arms in time to block a violent swing from overhead.

They resume their martial dance, hacking and slashing at each other more wildly now, almost feverish. He’s abandoned his “wear her down” strategy, the rush of adrenaline too seductive to ignore. He takes the offensive whenever he can, whipping his staff at her in powerful, precise strokes. But she blocks or dodges every hit, weaving around them, once bending so far back she almost seems to be at a right angle as his staff whirs through the air just above her chest.

 _Crack, whish, crack, whish._ The sound of impact and wind intensifies. He blocks right, strikes left, sensing most of her moves in advance yet still surprised by some, barely countering in time.

 _Crack, whish, crack, whish._ He picks up the offensive, forcing her to stay on defense. She backs away, blocking as he bears down on her relentlessly. **_CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK_**. Hard, powerful strikes rain down on her, never ending. She stays alert, fending off every blow, but he senses her heartbeat quickening, a low panic rising. **_CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK_**. This is his fight now. He has her right where he wants her, moving her gradually into a corner.

Then, out of nowhere, she does something bizarre.

As she leaps up, tucking her knees into her chest to miss a powerful sweep of his staff below, she literally throws her own staff up into the air. He can’t help but glance up at it, taken aback.

Then he realizes what she’s doing. Too late.

She drops to the floor and he can’t react in time to limbs wrapping around his legs, sharp, little punches in exactly the right places, his inner right thigh, the soft back of his left knee.

The next second, he’s flat on his back on the floor, staff clattering out of his hand. Rey catches her own staff before it hits the ground. In an instant, she’s crouched on top of him, right foot on his chest, holding the edge of her staff to his throat.

He begins to push up but she stops him by pressing her staff into his neck, restricting his breath.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she says in a mocking tone, shaking her head. “Not so fast. I want you to promise me something before I let you go.”

He could easily knock her off him right now, leap to his feet, resume the fight. But he doesn’t. The truth is, he’s having more fun with her perched on his chest right now, even though she’s gloating annoyingly. He cocks his head and looks up at her, expectant. She eases off with the staff, bringing it away from his neck and drawing her face down closer to his.

“And you have to say that you’ll do it before you know what it is.” She squints her eyes teasingly. He grunts and shakes his head.

“No way.” His voice is firm but a smile tugs at his lips. “I’m not agreeing to do something if I don’t know what it is.”

She presses the staff to his throat again and he coughs. “It’s for your own good.” Her face is just above his, eyes intent.

“Fine.” He squeezes out a response.

At that, she backs away, getting off him and turning around to walk to a corner of the room. He sits up, bending his knees and resting his elbows on top of them, regarding her curiously. She’s placed her staff on the ground and is crouched over the trey of food she picked up earlier, sorting through it. Suddenly she stands and turns to face him. Her left arm hangs loose but her right arm is tucked behind her back.

“Now remember, you _promised_.” She gazes out at him with a solemn expression. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. She brings her arm out from behind to reveal something round and purple. She holds it up in front of her.

“Eat something solid for once,” she says in a serious tone. “And, if you can, _try_ to enjoy it.” She tosses the object over to him and he catches it, looking down. It’s a Gapanga fruit. He looks back up in her direction.

But no one’s there.

Vanished, without a trace, like she was never here at all.

He sighs and looks down at the fruit again, eying it almost suspiciously. A part of him wants to chuck it back into the corner. He almost does, rearing his arm back for a toss, but he stops himself abruptly.

The realization hits him at once.

He feels completely different. Relaxed, even. For the first time in _days_. No more itch. No more rage. No more fire in the blood. Just a calmness in his body, in his mind.

He takes a deep breath, a satisfying one, drawing air slowly into his lungs, relishing in this rare but welcome feeling. A kind of peace.

Almost absently, without thinking, he brings the Gapanga up to his mouth for a bite.

His teeth sink into the purple flesh of the fruit, sweet, tart juice trickling across his taste buds. He chews thoughtfully for a minute.

He remembers this one. It’s been a long time, but he remembers it. In fact, it was one of his favorites as a boy.

Finally, he pushes up from the floor and heads to the back of the room for a towel. He walks towards the entrance, wiping the sweat from his face and neck, then tosses it. As he exits the training room, he takes another bite of the fruit, wiping the juice from his mouth. He strides down the halls of the ship, his mind preoccupied, his body on autopilot, following the path to his quarters.

As he walks, he thinks about Rey. He thinks about the bond. He thinks about how much better it is to train with her than anyone else. He even thinks about trying to eat more solid food.

But he doesn’t think about the fight.

This is unusual. Normally when he leaves the training room, his mind involuntarily reviews every move, every strike, every block, analyzing it, obsessively considering ways he can improve his performance.

But no, he doesn’t do that this time. Maybe it’s because he feels so relaxed. Maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed Rey got the better of him.

But more than likely, it’s because if he does this, he’ll have to confront some things he’d rather avoid.

Like that wide-open opportunity to kick her directly in the chest, sending her flying back, probably breaking a few ribs.

Or that moment when he could have slammed her hard against the wall.

Or that chance when he had her arm twisted behind her back. If he’d pulled just a little more…

No, he doesn’t think about these things. Because if he did, he’d have to admit the truth.

That whenever they fight… he can’t seem to keep himself from pulling his punches.

 


	9. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finally learns why Kylo Ren killed his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "solo." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

The boy races down the curved hall of the ship, panicked, searching.

 _Where is it?_   _Where is it?_   _It has to be here somewhere._  

He runs into the lounge and slides beneath the hologame table. His tiny body fits under it easily.

_No, not here. Maybe it got stuck somewhere in the seat?_

The boy starts patting it all over, feeling for bumps. He crawls on top of it, sliding his hands all over the back, the top.

Nothing.

He crawls back down to the floor, searching around the base of the seat, the crevices behind it.

Nothing.

Now he’s really starting to panic, chest tightening, heartbeat racing.

_Where is it? Where can it be? His dad’s gonna kill him. He’s just gonna KILL him._

Suddenly, the boy stops cold.

He hears his dad coming down the hall.

He immediately scrambles up and around the corner, straight to the bunks.

He drops down, belly to the floor, and starts searching under the first bunk, hands sweeping wildly in the darkness.

But he finds nothing but a carpet of Wookie hair. 

He shoots up and races to the other bunk, dropping to the floor and reaching under the bed.

Nothing.

_How can this be? It has to be on this ship! It has to be SOMEWHERE!_

His eyes begin to feel hot, tears pushing to the surface. He squeezes them shut, trying to fight them off, but it’s no use. A few escape down his cheeks and trickle along his jaw.

He scrambles to his feet and grabs the sheets on top of the bed, dragging them all over his face to wipe away the tears. He sniffles, preparing to blow his nose.  

“Hey, Ben?” His dad’s voice fills the hollow annals of the ship.

_Uh oh._

“Ben?” He yells a little louder.

The boy flings the sheets back on the bed and begins walking down the hall with slow, measured steps, wiping his face with the backs of his hands. He shoves them in his pocket before he rounds the corner to the lounge, eyes downcast, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

His dad is with Chewie in front of the technical station, their backs to him. He catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Spud,” his dad starts absently, not really looking at him. “How’d you like it if we didn’t go straight home, if we made a little stop along the way?” He turns his head slyly, eyes alight with mischief.

Suddenly, his face falls.

“ _Hey_ ,” he draws out the word, walking over swiftly to kneel before him. “What’s wrong?” He brings a hand up to his cheek, thumb stroking the corner of his eye.

The boy takes a deep breath, fresh tears beginning to well. He tries to look anywhere but at his father, up to the ceiling, down the hall, the technical station—

And that’s when he sees it.

He gasps when he does, immediately racing towards the gold gleaming in the light. He reaches up for the object dangling from above, his small fingers just barely able to grasp it. He pulls and the chain slides off the hook. He gazes down at the object in his palm.

His dad’s lucky dice, the ones he used to win this ship.

“Yeah, good thing Chewie found that before the morning garbage dump, huh?” The boy lets out an exhale, relieved to hear his dad sound more teasing than angry. He takes a deep breath, feeling his body relax.

He begins to turn around but stops cold when something strange happens.

The dice disappear in his palm, crumbling into thin air like nothing.

He catches a breath, confused. He twists towards his dad and is startled to find his face right in front of him.

He doesn’t look right. He’s wrinkled. His hair is gray. He looks like an old man. And his face is ashen, white like a ghost. His expression… he never knew his dad could look that way.

Scared. Shocked.

Suddenly, he looks down and is surprised to find he’s no longer a boy but a man. A man holding a red lightsaber, long fiery blade running straight through—

His heart stops.

_No. This can’t be._

His dad reaches out to touch his face, just like he did only a minute ago.

_No. This can’t be real. This can’t be what happens._

His eyes are pained, distant, and yet… full of love.  

_No, this isn’t me. This can’t be me._

His dad begins slipping away. He tries to grab him but he’s already falling down to the smoky depths below.

_Dad, NOOOOO!_

 

Kylo Ren gasps for air, his eyes flying open.

He pants like he’s been sprinting, his body slick with sweat. He’s lying flat on his back on a mattress, covered by nothing but a thin pair of pants.

He fights for air but try as he might, he can’t seem to get enough. Each breath is shallow, barely entering his lungs.

He sits up and swings his legs over the bed, the lights fading in dimly.

Kylo crosses his arms, clutching himself tightly, still fighting to breathe. He’s trembling, bordering on convulsing. He tenses, trying to force his body into stillness but it only seems to make it worse.

Now he’s starting to feel queasy. A strange kind of tingle creeps up from his stomach into his throat, arriving as a tangy, metallic taste seeping into his mouth, biting like a poison. His throat tightens and he starts to heave.

He shoots up and stumbles to the washing station. He grips the edges, bringing his head down over it, preparing for a stream of vomit, but instead he only retches, just a few dribbles of spit coming out.

He crumbles to the floor, still trembling. He awkwardly scoots himself to the wall and rests his back against it. He plants his feet wide and leans his body forward between his legs, arms crossed tightly.

He closes his eyes, concentrating on the Force within, trying to bring himself into a meditative state.

But all he sees is the look on his father’s face when he ran his lightsaber through his body.

His eyes snap open as he lets out a gasp, starving for air.

He needs to breathe.  _Really_  breathe.

And he  _needs_  to get some sleep. He only slept three hours last night. Maybe less. If he has another night like that, he’ll be nothing but a raw nerve tomorrow, a half-dead, brain-weary raw nerve.

He needs to get control of himself.  _Calm down_.

 _Breathe._  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

The trembles begin to subside. But he still can’t get air all the way into his lungs. His face drips with sweat, his body still hot.  

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

He begins to loosen his hold on himself, uncrossing his arms. He tries to concentrate on inhales and exhales, staring intently downward into the floor. 

 _Finally_ , his breathing begins to even out.

He manages to take in one deep, satisfying inhale but stops abruptly, holding it in.  

Warmth gently rises in his core.

_Oh no._

The warmth grows, stretching into his limbs.

_Not now. Please not now._

It surges through him, strong yet calm.

_No. Any time but now._

Then it vanishes as quickly as it came.

He lets out his breath slowly.

He doesn’t move and doesn’t look up. But he knows she’s there. Watching him.

The room is silent for a minute. Silent except for the low hum of the ship all around.

At first, he senses irritation, as though she were annoyed with the bond for interrupting her. But her emotions quickly change. Now he senses… concern?

“You look terrible,” Rey abruptly declares from across the room.

Kylo grunts, covering his eyes with a palm.   

“Thanks, Rey,” he says dryly, shaking his head. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.”

“No, I mean,” she sputters a little, “I just mean you don’t look well. Are you sick?” She begins to walk towards him.

“Stay where you are!” He shouts, shooting out a halting hand.

She stops, eyes wide, putting her hands up defensively.

“Please,” he follows more calmly.

She gives a solemn nod, then backs away, leaning against the wall just opposite to him.

He sits up a little, looking to the right then the left but not at her.

“You must be sick,” she says.

“I’m not sick,” he replies, irritated.

“You’re covered in sweat, like you have a fever,” she observes.

“ _I’m not sick_ ,” he repeats firmly.

“Your hair is soaked and you’re sitting next to the washing station,” she continues evenly. “Did you throw up?”

“ _No_ ,” he growls, getting frustrated.

“Well, something happened, clearly. What was it?”

His eyes snap up to hers.

“ _None of your business_ ,” he spits out snidely.  

Rey raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

He looks away, looks down. He tries to take a deep breath.

A minute of silence passes.

Then, he hears Rey slide down the wall to take a seat on the floor. She shifts her body and lets out a small sigh. He can feel her eyes on him, sense her curiosity, her concern.

Another minute passes. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring intently downward.

“Is it night here?” She finally breaks the silence.

“It’s always night in space, Rey,” he deadpans.

 She scoffs softly.

“You know what I mean. You should be sleeping, shouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t respond. He just continues to look at the floor.

“Did you…” she starts hesitantly, “have a nightmare?”

He still doesn’t respond, trying to clear his mind.

A few seconds pass.

“About…” She sounds pensive, like she’s searching for what to say next. “Snoke?”

No answer. He doesn’t even move.

“One of Snoke’s trials?”

Nothing.

“General Hux?”

He snorts without meaning to, more in disbelief than in answer to her.

Several seconds pass.

“Your father?”

His blood runs cold. His heart skips a beat.

And she knows… without him saying anything. He felt the realization wash over her. 

More silence. A long one this time. One that seems to stretch on forever.

“Do you…” Rey finally speaks, clearly hesitant, “want… to talk about it?”

He snaps his head up. “ _No,_ ” he insists sharply. “Why the hell would I do that?”

Rey rolls her eyes.

She’s seated cross-legged, leaning back against the wall just opposite to him, hands resting lightly in her lap.

“ _Because_ …” She sits up, “sometimes it’s good to talk to people about things, especially—” She pauses for a moment. “Especially troubling things,” she finishes.

“That’s ridiculous.” He shudders in disgust, leaning back and looking away.  

“No,  _it isn’t_ ,” she insists. “It’s actually pretty well established that it’s a good thing.”

“Oh yeah?” He bites. “And what would you know about that, living alone in a desert wasteland your whole life?”

She leans forward, eyes bright with intensity. “I’m  _learning_.” She draws out the word for emphasis. “I’m part of a community now. I actually have friends, talk to people, tell them things.”

Kylo looks away, up at the ceiling.

“It’s taking time,” she continues. “but I’m learning that it’s not a weakness to share things with people. Just the opposite. It takes a lot of strength to be vulnerable with someone.”

He takes a short breath, his jaw twitching in irritation.

Silence.

Suddenly he hears her shift on the floor. A few more seconds go by.

“Do you remember,” she begins tentatively, “when you said you think the bond brings us together when we’re feeling vulnerable?”

He doesn’t answer. He just crosses his arms and sets his jaw.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” she continues despite his ignoring her, “And I’m starting to get the feeling that’s the point.”

“Of what?”

“The bond,” she answers.

He considers this for a moment.

“What do you mean?” He flits his head in irritation, finally looking over at her.

She’s sitting with one knee up, arm wrapped around her shin, and one leg curled under her.

“I mean the point is to see each other’s vulnerabilities.” Her eyes are clear, confident.

“Rey, no.” He grunts. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you _mean_ it doesn’t make sense?” Rey demands, sitting up. “It’s  _literally_  the only pattern we can find so far.”

“But why?” He shrugs dismissively. “What would be the point of that?”

“I don’t know  _why_ ,” she articulates, clearly annoyed. “I can’t know that until I see more, until I find out. But I do know that the bond brought me here tonight because you need to talk about your father.” She juts her chin up.

At that, he rises swiftly, turning his back to her. He grabs a towel from the washing station, then starts wiping his face, his neck, body. He hears her stand behind him. She waits for a few seconds, then takes a couple of steps towards him.

“Ben—”

“No!” She barely gets the word out before he whips around. “No!” He repeats, gesturing emphatically with a hand. “I’m _not_ talking about that, with you or anyone else.”

He walks away before she can respond, heading to the closet. He hears her take in a deep breath behind him.

“Ben, I think you need to.”

“No, I don’t,” he answers reflexively. He grabs a thin undershirt and begins pulling it on.

“Yes,  _you do_.” She sounds annoyingly overconfident, as always.

“No,  _I don’t_ ,” he bites back. He finishes putting on the shirt but doesn’t turn to face her.

“I really think you do.”

“ _NO, I DON’T!_ ” He rages towards her and she jumps back, frightened. “I don’t need to talk to ANYONE about ANYTHING.” He’s right in front of her now, bearing over her menacingly.

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t talk to a  _nobody_  like you. SO, SHUT UP ABOUT IT!” He yells this in a wild rage, so loud that she tenses, scrunching her shoulders as though she’s bracing for an impact. She looks scared and a bit hurt.

He whips around and strides to the end of the room. He stands, crossing his arms and hardening his jaw, his back to her.

At first, he doesn’t hear anything. The room is quiet.

Then, footsteps walk away from him to the opposite wall. It sounds like she settles on the floor again. He imagines her back is to him.

He can’t see her, and he can’t hear her. Yet somehow… he knows she’s crying. Softly.

He feels a twist in his heart.

 _No._  He has no reason to feel guilty. She’s the one trying to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.

A long period of silence passes. He begins fiddling in his closet, not for any particular reason, just to do something.

Why is  _she_  the one who’s upset? He should be upset. She’s the one pressing him to talk about something he  _clearly_  doesn’t want to talk about.

He shifts through a few shirts.

He told her he didn’t want to talk about it.  _Several times_. But she kept provoking him. She forced him to yell at her. It’s her own fault.

He shifts through more items, not really paying attention. He tries to focus on his anger, his frustration… but they’re quickly melting away, making room for other emotions.

Like guilt. And regret.

He sighs, dropping his arms by his sides. He hangs his head for a moment before crossing his arms, annoyed with himself. His jaw twitches.

Then suddenly, a thought occurs to him.

No… that’s a bad idea. A terrible idea, actually.

He turns to walk over to the chair at his desk. He glances at her on the way. Her back is to him. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the wall, head bowed.  

He takes a seat, staring forward, not at her.

He clenches and unclenches his fists several times, fighting an internal battle.

Still a bad idea. So many things could go wrong.

He sucks in a breath, frustrated. With himself. With Rey. With the bond. With the whole damn situation.

It’s definitely a bad idea.  _Definitely_.

But God help him… he’s going to do it anyway.

He lets out a long, measured exhale. He unclenches his fists and wiggles his fingers, trying to loosen his muscles.

“Rey.” He turns towards her slightly.

She doesn’t respond or even react.

“Do you remember…” he continues slowly, “when you told me about that trader from Jakku, the one who found a species where everyone was telepathically connected?”

Still nothing.

He sighs. “Do you remember what you said you liked about that idea?”

She raises her head.

“You said…” he struggles to continue, to get the words out. “You said you liked it because other people could just know things about you, things…” he pauses. “Things too hard to say out loud.”

At this, she swings around to face him, eyes eager, catching his meaning. She starts to rise.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he extends a hand to halt her. “There are conditions.”

At this, her eyes narrow, uncertain.

He turns in his chair to fully face her, resting his right forearm on the desk.

She looks up at him expectantly.

“First condition,” he begins in an authoritative tone. “Stay on task. I don’t want you rifling around my head looking for other things. Just focus on… what we agreed to focus on.”

She nods, assenting to this easily.

“Second condition.”  He looks briefly down and back up. “You get one minute.”

 “Wha—”

“No negotiating,” he cuts her off. “You either agree to the conditions or you don’t.”

She widens her eyes, clearly frustrated by this. She looks up to the ceiling, shaking her head.

“ _Fine_ ,” she says the word begrudgingly. She starts to get up.

“Third condition.”

She halts, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but settles back down on the floor, resting her hands in her lap.

Kylo sits up straight, eyes intent on hers. “At some point in the future, I don’t know when, I’m going to ask you for a favor. I don’t even know what it is yet. But when the time comes,” he leans forward a little, “you have to say yes.” He nods towards her.

Her jaw slides to the side, deeply suspicious of this. She juts her chin up slightly, eyes like slits. “Will the favor be… comparable?” She tilts her head, distrust in her voice.

“Of course,” he answers as though this is obvious.

She gives him a lingering look but ultimately accepts this. “Fine,” she replies evenly. She rises to her knees.

“Fourth condition.”

“Ben!” She drops to the floor, hands flying up. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“No talking about it afterwards,” he continues, ignoring her protest.

“What!?” She cries out immediately. “But that’s the whole point!”

“ _No_ ,” he intones firmly. “The whole point is to share something  _without_  having to talk about it. And when I say I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t just mean tonight. I mean ever. I don’t want you to  _ever_  bring this up again in  _any_  context.” She lets out a frustrated exhale, widening her eyes in disbelief.

“ _Rey_ ,” he draws out her name, a hint of warning in his voice. “These are the conditions. Do you accept them or not?”

She leans back against the wall, rolling her eyes. She tenses her jaw a bit.

“Yes,” she says finally, clearly resentful.

“Ok,” he says evenly. Then he rises.

She remains on the floor for a few seconds, looking down, still irritated by the terms of the deal.

 But her irritation is soon replaced by a kind of excitement.

She rises to her knees and stands, looking like she lost the battle but won the war.

She’s been _dying_  to know how he feels about his father, about… what he did. Part of him can’t believe he’s finally giving in. Maybe he shouldn’t do this…

She looks up at him, arms at her sides, intensely curious. Her eyes soften as she begins to walk towards him.

His heartbeat quickens. He’s already feeling nervous, an anxious churning in his gut. She stops just in front of him, clear, brown eyes intense yet solemn.

They stare at each other silently for a minute. Then he begins to feel her slip into his mind, invisible fingers creeping into his thoughts.  

“Wait!” He sits down, covering his eyes with his palm. “Never mind. I can’t do this.”

Rey sighs. “Ben, no,” he feels her tug at his arm. “Come on. This was your idea. And it will only take a minute. All you have to do is literally just stand there and think. That’s all. And we won’t speak of it afterwards, just like we agreed.”

He lets out a heavy exhale, then uncovers his eyes, rising slowly.

“That’s it,” Rey encourages him.

He crosses his arms, looking to the right and the left, anywhere but at her.

“Why don’t you just close your eyes.” She reaches up and covers his eyes with her palm. “Just  _breathe_  and  _relax_.”

He does as she suggests, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale.

But he can’t relax. His body feels unsettled, as though the blood in his veins were only nervous energy coursing through him, putting him on edge.

He feels Rey’s palm slip from his face. He senses her just in front of him, senses her anticipation.

Then he feels it again— the invisible fingers creeping into his mind.

Immediately, he holds his breath. He feels open, exposed, like a body without skin.

He’s not sure what to do, what to think.

So, he just starts remembering the dream, the nightmare he had. He runs through the scenes, the feelings in his mind.

He’s a boy, racing through the Falcon, searching desperately for his father’s lucky pair of dice. He looks everywhere but he can’t find them. He starts to cry, thinking about how  _angry_  his dad will be when he finds out. He hears his name being called from the lounge. He walks in. His father sees him, kneels down before him, strokes his face. Then finally he sees the dice hanging just next to the technical station. He grabs them; he’s relieved to have found them, more relieved that his dad isn’t angry with him.

Then the dice disappear in his palm and he turns around.

And he’s there all over again. That moment on Starkiller.

The nightmares start differently— sometimes it’s the first time his dad took him on a speeder, sometimes it’s at the watering hole on Kashyyyk, sometimes it’s just playing games on the Falcon— but it always ends in exactly the same place and exactly the same way.

The worst part about it is that he’s a boy the entire time. He sees like a boy, feels like a boy, thinks like a boy. All the way up until the very end.

That’s the horror of it. Being a boy in that moment. Being a boy who realizes that one day he will grow up… and kill his own father. The man who just forgave him for losing his lucky dice... the man who just punched the lights out of merchant for striking his son, … the man who just held him close when he was scared in a thunderstorm… he will grow up to run a lightsaber through his body.

_Why did he kill his father?_

He’s asked himself that question a million times since that day on Starkiller.

_Why did he kill his father?_

There’s only one answer.

For Snoke, of course. To prove his worth, his commitment. To prove that he would be a stronger, better Vader, one who didn’t fall prey to sentiment at the crucial moment.

Why else would he kill his own father? Why else would he have done any one of a thousand other things he’s ashamed of doing over the past decade?

Snoke never told him he wanted him to kill his father. But he didn’t have to. He  _felt_  it. He felt what he now he recognizes as a twisted sort of jealousy.

Because Snoke knew. He knew that he was not Kylo Ren’s true master. Not as long as Han Solo was alive.

Because he sensed that deep down, there was still a part of his apprentice… still that boy Ben Solo… the boy who wanted to  _be_  his father.  _Just be him_. 

Be free like him. Be courageous like him. Be charismatic like him. Be infuriating and likable all at the same. Be a rascal. Be a hero.

And Snoke knew it.  

Kylo tried to hide it from him, tried to kill it. But that part of him that wanted to be his father… it just wouldn’t die. No matter what he did.

So, then the moment finally came. Starkiller. The walkway. He’s run through the scene so many times.

He knew this was it. It would be now or never.

“Come home. We  _miss_ you.”

He almost did. In those seconds, those long seconds, there was a war in his mind. He saw himself doing what he knew he had to do. And he also saw himself giving it up right then and there. Giving his father the lightsaber. Embracing him. Leaving with him, the Falcon just a flash of light in the sky, bursting away from Starkiller, from his whole adult life as though it had just been a bad dream.

But there’s no way he could have done that. 

 ** _No. Way_**.

He’d come too far. Survived too much. Sacrificed too much. Changed too much. He wasn’t Ben Solo anymore. He couldn’t let everything he’d worked for, everything he’d built, everything he’d done be all for nothing.

So, he switched on the saber, almost without thinking.

And for the first few seconds…  _it felt good_. Like he’d _finally_ done it. Like he’d  _truly_  become Kylo Ren.

But then the shock in his father’s eyes waned… he reached out to touch his face, just like he’d done so many times before, and he looked at him with… love. Almost as though he were happy to see his son’s face before he died.

And just for a moment… just a few fleeting seconds… he was a boy again. A boy looking into his dying father’s eyes… knowing that he was the one who killed him.

The horror of that moment has lingered ever since, an ever-present tooth of remorse, gnawing at the back of his mind. It manifests in nightmares where the moment is interwoven with some of his most tender childhood memories. He used to have them every night. Now it only happens every few days or so. But no matter how many times he has the nightmares, each one feels like the very first time.

He often lies awake at night afterwards. Thinking. Playing with different scenarios in his mind. The other choices he could have made. But mostly he thinks about what he would tell his father if he could.

That he was right.

Snoke was just using him for his power. He feared him, just as Luke had. And just like Luke, he would try to kill him. Kylo tried to deny it, tried to avoid the truth right in front of him.

And he let himself be deceived.

Snoke had taught him to think of his father as weak and foolish. A slave to sentiment. And for a time, he believed that. But now, after everything that’s happened, he sees that while his father did have many weaknesses, he was strong where it counted. Strong in a way that he still isn’t.  

He knew exactly who he was. Never doubted it, never fought it, never apologized for it. He was a rogue, a smuggler. Every inch his own man.  

Until he killed him. Ran him through with his saber. Snuffed out the light.

And now he has to live with that. He killed the man he admired most, the first man he ever wanted to be… for what turned out to be another failed master. Another cutting betrayal.

Suddenly, it occurs to Kylo that it has been  _far longer_ than a minute.

“Stop,” he says abruptly. “Get out.” He sucks in a breath. “Get out.”

He feels Rey slowly withdraw from his mind, the tendrils of her presence creeping away.

He breathes heavily, nervously, making a point to keep his eyes closed. He’s almost too scared to open them. He can’t really feel much from Rey right now except for a kind of numbness. He’s not sure what it means.

In an instant, several scenarios play in his mind.

Her eyes are wide with shock and horror.

Or she doesn’t look at him at all, arms crossed, jaw set, utterly dumbfounded.

Or she calls him a monster.

He opens his eyes, no longer able to hold himself in suspense.

Rey’s face is in her palms. She’s bowing her body so he can’t quite see her. Then he notices her shoulders heaving softly.

She’s crying.

He freezes, not sure what to do. He’s doesn’t know what this means either.

Rey cries quietly for a few seconds, her face buried in her hands.

Then suddenly, she lunges forward and embraces him, sobbing into his chest.

At first, he’s stunned. His arms hang awkwardly at his sides. He didn’t expect this. He’s not sure how to react to it.

But he soon does what feels natural to him. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, cupping the back of her head with a hand. She continues to sob, seeming to just melt into him.

He thought for sure she would feel angry. Or disgusted. Or at the very least, disappointed.

But what he feels in her right now… it’s the strangest thing. It’s like feeling his own emotions through the lens of someone else’s.

But not just anyone.

Someone who cares about him. Someone who feels compassion for him.

Someone who didn’t enter his mind to judge or blame or criticize but  _to understand_. Just understand.

And now she’s giving herself over to everything she experienced, feeling it for herself. The horror. The guilt. The pain. She’s sharing it with him, sharing the aftermath of the worst mistake of his life.

He tightens his hold, bowing his head to bury his lips in her hair, the scent of her. She’s not sobbing anymore but crying gently. She feels so small and so warm. She seems to fit him perfectly, as if she were made for him.   

He loses himself in her embrace, in her compassion for him. He loses himself in the comfort that for once, this isn’t just his burden to bear. The effect of this weight being lifted feels like a miracle. A gift he doesn’t deserve.

But he revels in it nonetheless.

Without quite realizing it, he begins to rock her gently, adjusting his arms wrapped around her, feeling the slender curves of her body. He breathes deeply, with her, breathing in her scent, breathing in the moment.

Then a second later it’s over, her warm body disappearing into thin air.

Kylo finds himself literally stepping forward, reaching out, as though he could catch her before the bond takes her away.

But it’s no use. She’s already gone.

He stands there, arms as his side, shoulders hunched, looking down like he’s lost. He struggles to adjust to the contrast, the abrupt change from feeling at one with another person to being utterly alone.

Numbness overcomes him. For a minute, he feels hollow. He walks over to take a seat on his bed, not quite aware of his own movements. His mind is consumed by what just happened, the intensity of the experience, of being the recipient of such deep empathy. He sits quietly, dazed, staring out at nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, he feels it wash over him, a crushing wave. Certainly not for the first time, but he’s never felt it quite like this before. So all-consuming… a deep, primal ache.

He wants her. He just  _wants_  her. In every way he could possibly have her.

Carnally. Emotionally. Spiritually.

He wants her heart, her mind, her body, her scent, her intimacy, her passion, her  _everything_.

He closes his eyes, clenching his fists.

Then he abruptly rises and charges to his closet, lifting his shirt up and over his head. He quickly begins changing his clothes.

He needs to go to the training room. He needs to hit something.

The sentry droids are still there from the afternoon. He’ll train for an hour, wear himself out to the brink of exhaustion, then maybe he’ll come back and just pass out, fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

He can’t stay in this room right now, alone with his thoughts. Nothing to do but mull over mistakes, regrets, and wanting things he can’t have.

Once he changes, he strides to the door and out into the hall.

It’s mostly empty. Quiet except for a few operators and a single MSE droid making its way along its route.

He walks swiftly, purposefully, trying to keep his mind focused on the task ahead.

But it wanders in spite of himself.

He hates to admit it but… Rey was right.

It felt good share that with someone, with her. He can’t put his finger on exactly why.

It doesn’t change what he did. It won’t banish the nightmares, the guilt, or the regret.

Yet he knows that the next time he has a nightmare… or the next time he lies awake at night thinking about what he did and why... He’ll think about her. He’ll think about holding her in his arms, feeling his own emotions through her compassion for him.

And he’ll know that out there, somewhere in the galaxy, is someone who understands exactly what he’s feeling in that moment.

He’ll know that he’s not alone.


	10. Monsoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets caught in a monsoon and continues to think about her bond with Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "rain." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

Rey stands, hunched and taut, arms wrapped tightly around a tree trunk as though she were holding on for dear life. 

Endless rain beats down mercilessly from above, the weight of it bearing on her, pushing her towards the ground. Her eyes and mouth are squeezed shut, thick streams pouring over her face. Flood waters gush by at her feet.

It’s up to her ankles now. She needs to get moving before it gets any higher. 

Rey was warned about this when she arrived on the planet a few days ago. “Worst monsoons in the whole galaxy,” Poe had told her. High speed winds, lightening strikes, flash floods— she learned about all of it. What to do when caught in a storm, finding the high ground, seeking out shelter, waiting until the worst of it has passed. 

And yet, Rey was not at all prepared for this. 

She can count on  _one hand_  the number of times it rained on Jakku the entire time she was there. And compared to this, that barely counts as rain. 

She had no concept of exactly how much water a sky could produce.  _Sheets_  of rain.  _Sheets_. So thick there’s no point in opening her eyes. 

Rey jumps at the crack of lightening nearby. 

Ok. Time to move. 

She’s not far from the cave. She was there only five minutes ago. The mountain is right next to her. She just needs to find that path again. The incline is steep  _but_  she just ran a high strength cable up the mountainside so the Resistance can move equipment to build a lookout on the top. All she needs to do is find that cable… 

Rey braces herself, still holding on to the tree trunk tightly. Then she finally releases and starts slogging through the surging flood at her ankles, waving her arms, reaching out for branches or anything to help steady her. 

Her eyes are still closed. But she doesn’t need them. She has other senses she can rely on. 

She reaches out through the Force, feeling where she needs to go, a kind of spiritual retracing of her steps. 

Several minutes pass as she slogs forth, eyes squeezed shut, head bowed, heavy rain still beating down from above. 

Suddenly, she feels her feet pulled out from under her. Her legs fly up and she lands hard on her back. She’s being pulled away, swept up by the raging flood waters. She swings her hands around wildly, grasping for anything to hold on to. And that’s when she feels it…

_The cable._

She grips it tightly, rolling over onto her belly. She rises to her knees, then her feet, and begins trudging up the mountain path, little by little, gripping the cable and pulling up with one hand then the other. She’s getting higher, high enough so that the once raging flood at her feet is only a thin stream now. 

She keeps pulling on the cable, making her way up the steep incline carefully. She’s getting close. She can sense it. A little further. Just a little bit more…

Suddenly, she stops.

_Finally._

She ducks and stumbles into the opening to her left. 

Immediately, she feels lighter, the weight of the rain lifted from her body. She drops to her knees, body hunched over, taking a few minutes just to breathe, to be able to open her eyes and mouth without water streaming over her face. 

Then she sits back and swings her feet in front of her to remove her boots and socks. Her skin feels wrinkly and tender from the water, almost painful, especially at her feet. 

But she’s not cold. Not on this planet.

It’s the one good thing about the rain. It seems to have cooled the temperature from a thick, suffocating heat to an actually pleasant warmth. 

Rey sets her shoes and socks to the side then rises to take a look around the cave. It’s not too deep but it’s tall for its size, the ceiling a few feet above her head. The earth is relatively firm and the walls are pure rock, uneven, gray slabs of stone. 

She walks to the edge of the cave, as close as she can get without being sprayed with rain and takes a seat, curling her right knee into her chest. 

Then, she just watches. Watches and listens.

Now that she’s out of it, the rain seems nice, beautiful even. The sound of it is soothing, steady streams beating down to the earth, interrupted only by low rumbles of thunder and, every now and then, an abrupt crack of lightening. 

This is her first time being in a thunderstorm like this. She might as well take the opportunity to enjoy it. 

Rey gazes quietly out at the rain, her mind wandering over the past few days, their progress. 

The base here is coming along well. It will be their primary training facility when they’re done, where all of the new recruits will go. She’s been part of the scouting team, surveying the land for several miles, charting the terrain, setting up a perimeter, marking the best spots for lookouts. 

The Resistance has been busy. Their numbers are starting to pick up, slowly but surely, so there’s a lot to be done. It’s been good to be busy. She’s needed the distraction. Especially since…

She bows her head instinctively. 

The memory rushes upon her all at once, and her heart twists, feeling heavy yet fluttering at the same time. 

Being in his mind. Being in his arms. 

Her throat constricts and she feels the hot push of tears behind her eyes. She sets her jaw and takes a deep breath, eyes fixed firmly on the torrent of rain in front of her. She gulps, struggling against the tightness in her throat. 

Rey hates that this happens every time she thinks about it. And yet she can forgive herself. Because what happened the last time the bond brought them together was a kind of closeness she’s never experienced before.  

It was not  _at all_  like reading his mind on Starkiller. It wasn’t like any time she’s read his mind before. No, this was something very different. She’s not sure why.

All she knows is that it didn’t just feel like being in his mind. It was as though… she was in his heart too. His emotions were  _her_  emotions. She felt all of it. His agony. His anguish. Interminable guilt squirming inside, ripping through him, diminishing him a little more every day. 

And self-hatred. That was the worst of it. 

He despises himself for what he did. He’s utterly sick with self-loathing. There’s a part of him that hates everything he’s become. 

Rey takes a deep, measured breath, then sighs it out slowly. She brings both of her knees into her chest and gazes out intensely into the rain, not really seeing it. 

She’s known that Ben Solo is still in there for some time now. She just didn’t know  _how much_  of him is still in there. Now she knows. 

And she’s shocked yet… not shocked at the same time. 

Without realizing it, she brings her thumb up to her lower lip, grazing it gently, lost in thought. 

She’s been thinking a lot about it lately. About the bond. Him. What she saw in his mind. 

And she’s been thinking about what she saw when she touched his hand on Ahch-To again. 

She’s avoided thinking about that for a while. She’d been so stunned by how it all turned out. The Supremacy. The throne room. She had been _certain_  of what she’d seen, but then the reality played out before her eyes, a spectacular mess …  _what went wrong?_

She failed. Or he failed. Either way, the vision she’d seen would not come to pass. Perhaps she just didn’t have the skill to understand it. Or perhaps it was some kind of trick from Snoke to lure her. After she recovered from the shock of watching it all fall apart, she just tried not to think about it.

But lately, it’s been on her mind again. She can’t help it. Since the bond’s been growing, since she’s been seeing more of who he is… 

She’s beginning to wonder if maybe it’s not that what she saw won’t come to pass. It’s that it won’t come to pass in the way she thought it would. 

Rey pushes out a long, heavy exhale, thumb still at her lip. 

She feels like she’s on the edge of something… on the edge of understanding. It’s like a word that’s on the tip of her tongue yet she can’t seem to remember it. She’s close to figuring out this bond… figuring out her role in it… she just needs to find that missing piece.

Suddenly, she sits up straight, eyes wide, dropping her hand to the ground. 

There’s that creeping feeling inside of her, seeming to emanate from nowhere… 

She sits up straighter and crosses her legs, preparing herself, feeling his presence drawing closer. She looks forward, focusing on the rain. For a moment, the sound of it seems to dull.

And then he’s there. She can sense him next to her. 

She waits for a few seconds, hands in her lap, rubbing her thumb and index finger together nervously, before turning her head up to the right. 

He’s standing, arms crossed, at first not looking at her but up and around the cave. His gaze settles on her soon enough, though. 

His eyes are soft, warm even, almost as though he’s happy to see her. 

Her lips part to say something but no words come out. Her chest feels light, her breath a bit shallow.  _Why is she feeling like this?_

She wishes he would speak, break the tension. But no, he just stands there with his arms crossed, cocking his head and looking down at her in a way that makes her feel… exposed, somehow. 

He abruptly looks away to the scene outside, hunching is body down a bit and stepping towards the cave opening. He peers out curiously for a moment, then takes a seat next to her, only a couple of feet away, black eyes still staring out into the rain. 

She watches him for a moment, then jerks her head forward, focusing her own eyes straight ahead.  

The steady beat of the downpour fills the cave, an ambient backdrop that helps soothe the tension between them. Soothe, but not eliminate. 

Rey continues to rub her thumb and index finger together, a nervous tick she’s hardly aware of. A minute passes in silence. 

_Why won’t he just say something already?_

What is she supposed to say after what happened last time? Nothing. That was one of his stupid conditions.  _He_  should be the one to break the tension. 

She takes in a breath, slowly, deeply, trying to relax her body, calm her frayed nerves. She tells herself there’s no reason for her to feel nervous. And yet, she knows that of course  _there is_ … How is she supposed to behave around a man after she’s seen inside his heart? 

She resists the urge to look over at him, trying to concentrate on the rain still raging ahead. 

Suddenly, a loud crack of lightening rips through the sky and Rey jumps, gasping sharply. She looks over at Ben. He glances back with a glint in his eye. 

“You’re not scared of the lightening, are you?” He narrows his eyes, a pinch of teasing in his voice. 

“ _No_.” She juts her chin up confidently. “Of course not.” He twitches his jaw and eyes her with doubt. She looks back at him with an even calm. They stare at one another for a few seconds. 

Rey jumps again when more lightening cracks loudly outside. She looks up for a moment then back at him. He immediately looks away, fighting to suppress a smile. 

She glares at him for a second, before turning back forward and scrunching her shoulders to her ears a little sheepishly. 

“Have you never been in a thunderstorm before?” He asks next to her. 

“Not like this,” she shakes her head a couple of times, leaning forward when she hears the rumble of thunder outside. She feels his eyes on her as she peers out into the storm. When she turns back to him, he’s staring at her with an amused look on his face. 

“What?” She asks, dropping her shoulders, wondering what he could possibly be so amused by. 

“Nothing.” He turns to face forward again, a smile still teasing at his lips. She narrows her eyes at him for a few seconds, then joins him in gazing out of the cave. 

“So, what do you think?” He asks abruptly, glancing over at her, gesturing out at the scene before them. 

Rey straightens, looking over at him briefly then back out at the storm. “I like it a lot more from in here,” she declares definitively, nodding her head. She reaches a hand out to feel the steady stream of rain for a few moments, then pulls away. “I had no idea a planet could produce this much water. It’s unbelievable.” She looks over at him again, shaking her head. 

“There are _rivers_  of rain out there right now.  _Rivers_.” She gestures outside, more than a little awe in her voice. “Twenty minutes ago, that was dry land. And it’s not just when it’s raining. The air on this planet is thick with moisture  _constantly_. It’s so strange… water was nowhere on Jakku. Here it’s absolutely everywhere.” As she speaks, Ben regards her with a kind of softness in his eyes. She can’t quite say why, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her that makes her stomach flutter. 

She turns away, wrapping her arms around herself, taking in a deep inhale. She jumps out of her skin again when lightening cracks just outside. 

She glances at Ben and is surprised to find he’s actually  _snickering_ , his head bowed, trying not to look at her.

“Are you laughing at me?” She asks, dropping her arms to her sides, her mouth gaping open in disbelief. 

“Absolutely not,” he lies, shaking his head, still staring downward, fighting a smirk. She shoots him a wry look, then rolls her eyes, turning towards the rain again. She tenses her shoulders, feeling a bit peeved, but then relaxes them when something suddenly occurs to her. 

She’s not sure she’s ever heard him laugh before. 

She purses her lips thoughtfully for a moment, then clasps her hands in her lap. 

“You know,  _you’d_  be scared of the lightening if it was  _your_  first thunderstorm,” she tells him with a hint of admonishment, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. She glances over at him. 

He cocks his head. “You’re right,” he admits freely, still staring straight ahead. She’s a bit surprised by how easily he owns up to this. She turns her head back forward. A few moments of silence pass. 

Suddenly, lightening cracks again, so loudly that the sound of it reverberates in the cave. Rey can’t stop herself from wincing and whipping her hands up to cover her ears. 

“Alright,” she hears Ben say next to her as though he’s giving in to something. He starts scooting closer to her. She looks over at him, regarding him with curiosity as he settles just behind her, close enough for her to feel his body heat, his chest just a few inches from her back. His right leg is planted next to her, his knee straight up, grazing her upper arm.  

“I’m going to teach you something,” he tells her in a low voice, lips just next to her ear. She feels that flutter in her stomach again. “It’ll make it easier. Or at least, it did for me.” She nods her head, a signal for him to continue. 

“Next time you see a flash of lightening outside, start counting in standard seconds, ok?” Rey nods her head again, staring intently forward. A few minutes pass as they both wait quietly, gazing out into the storm. Rey notices that the rain has thinned just a bit, enough for her to see the green of the jungle next to the mountain. 

Then she sees it. A flash of light in the sky. She immediately begins counting in her mind, head nodding slightly as she moves through each number. She stops and gives a small jump when she hears a loud crack followed by thunder. 

In an instant, she feels his hands at her elbows, his thumb stroking her right arm gently. “It’s ok,” he assures her, lips still just next to her ear. “How many seconds did you count?” 

“About… ten. I think,” she answers softly. 

“Good,” he responds. “Now divide that number by five and you’ll know roughly how many miles away the strike was.” 

“So, two miles,” Rey says decisively, then takes a slow breath. 

“Good,” he says again. “Just do that again every time you see a flash of lightning.” She bobs her head from side to side, considering this. 

“But…” she starts hesitantly, “that doesn’t exactly help me know  _when_  I’ll hear the lightening.”

“ _True_ ,” he draws out the word, “it doesn’t. But it gives you something to do while you wait for it. And it’s useful to know how close it is to you.” At this, Rey nods. Her eyes remain focused on the storm. She still feels his hands at her elbows. 

Suddenly, she sees another flash in the sky. Immediately, she bows her head and begins counting in her mind. She stops, only jumping slightly when she hears a crack followed by a low rumble. 

“Sixteen seconds,” she announces almost triumphantly. She feels his hands slip from her elbows. They continue to gaze out at the rain silently for a few minutes, Rey counting every time she sees a flash of lightening. 

She’s surprised to find that the counting does make it better. Though it doesn’t help her predict the crack, it gives her a strange sense of control, as though she’s figured out the storm’s secrets. 

The rain continues to thin out as they watch the storm together. Though they’re both quiet, the silence doesn’t feel awkward now. She feels strangely comfortable with him, comfortable in his presence. It doesn’t make any sense, but… it almost feels peaceful, doing something so simple, so innocent with him. It occurs to her that from an outsider’s perspective, they’d appear to be close friends, not mortal enemies. 

Rey must admit… it’s been a while since she’s thought about him as her enemy. It’s not that she’s  _forgotten_  he’s the Supreme Leader of the First Order. It’s that she hasn’t really seen him in that context in quite a while. She only sees him through the bond, and when the bond brings them together… He’s more Ben Solo than Kylo Ren.  

She sighs softly, still gazing out ahead. She hasn’t counted in a while. There hasn’t been any lightening. 

“I think I like thunderstorms.” She breaks the silence abruptly. He shifts behind her, his body grazing her back. 

“If you’re going to see your first storm, Dorajan’s the place to see it,” he comments absently. 

Immediately, Rey freezes, her blood running cold. 

And just like that, she’s reminded that this man is  _indeed_  her enemy. 

She gulps a bit, her chest feeling tight, a terrifying realization creeping upon her. 

“Ben…” she starts carefully, trying to sound calm, her senses heightened, ready to detect his reaction to what she says next. 

“How do you know what planet I’m on?” 

For a split second, he freezes, seized by an emotion she can’t quite read. But it quickly passes and his feelings darken into a strange mixture of shame and resignation.  

“Because I’ve been on this planet before,” he answers quietly behind her. “There’s only one tropical planet in the galaxy with storms as bad as this. And I was in one the last time I was here.”  

Rey narrows her eyes, suspicious, not sure what to make of his reaction or this answer. There’s a part of her that is absolutely  _itching_  to run back to the Falcon and run several more scans searching for a tracking device. She’s not an idiot. She checked the ship for a tracker several times after he returned it to her on Denash. But she found nothing. Now, she’s starting to worry that she just didn’t look hard enough… 

Then again, she senses there’s something deeper in his reaction to her question. His emotions are too complex to simply be fear of getting caught putting a tracker on her ship. 

“Why were you here?” She turns her face slightly to the side. 

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he continues to gaze out at the rain. A minute of silence passes. Then she hears a heavy sigh behind her. 

“When I left Luke’s academy,” he begins, hesitance in his voice. He pauses. “I didn’t leave alone. There were others… others who came with me.” 

“The Knights of Ren?” She asks. She senses him nodding behind her. 

Rey’s never encountered these Knights before. But she’s seen them in a vision. And she’s heard of them. The whole galaxy has heard of them… and fears them. 

He doesn’t continue immediately. He takes a few seconds, seeming to collect his thoughts, determining how best to proceed. 

“One of them,” he starts again, finally. “One of them…” he repeats, then his voice trails off for a moment. 

“He wasn’t cut out for this,” he finishes finally. 

“Cut out for what?” Rey asks. 

“Doing what needed to be done,” he answers in a dark tone. She doesn’t ask him what he means by this. She can imagine it. 

“So,” he continues, clearly still hesitant, “I went to Snoke. For guidance. Asked what he would do.”

“And what did he tell you?” Rey asks quietly, an ominous feeling in her chest. She hears him gulp behind her.

“He said…” he begins slowly, “that there was a rebellion on this planet that needed to be snuffed out. He told me to come here, to bring the Knight with me, him and none of the others.” He pauses for a few seconds. She can feel his emotions, a strange kind of nervousness. He struggles to continue.    

“And…” he finally speaks again. “If he didn’t perform as he was expected, I should execute him. Right then and there.” Rey’s heartbeat quickens a little.

“So, what happened?” She asks, somehow eager yet dreading the answer at the same time. He sighs heavily, clearly reluctant.

“We came. We confronted the rebels. There weren’t many of them. They weren’t even a threat to us, really. And…” He sighs again. “He couldn’t do it. We argued. He threw his lightsaber in the jungle, if I recall.” 

Rey tries to take a deep inhale, but it comes in shallow and uneven. She bows her head and closes her eyes. She doesn’t speak for a minute. 

“So, what did you do?” She asks finally, bracing herself inwardly for the response. 

But it doesn’t come. He never answers her. He only watches the rain die down outside. She feels him churning with a complex mixture of emotions. There’s some anger, some regret, but something else too… something she can’t quite read. 

Yet, his silence seems to tell her what she wants to know. 

Her heart feels heavy, understanding what he left unspoken. She keeps her head bowed for another minute, then brings it up, opening her eyes, noticing that the rain is only a light trickle now. 

They sit silently for several minutes, both lost in thought. She thinks about what he just told her. She wonders about his relationship with the man he executed. Did he consider him a friend? A close friend? Did the man try to fight back? Or did he just accept his fate? She runs through the scenarios in her mind. She can almost picture him arguing furiously with a nondescript man in black robes in the jungle. 

Then she starts to think about what started this conversation in the first place. The fact that he knows what planet she’s on. She thinks about his reaction when she asked him, how he froze, as if caught in the act. It’s possible that it was just him remembering the Knight, coming here to kill him. Then again, maybe not…

She starts to rub her thumb and index finger together nervously.

She’s still going to check the Falcon again for a tracker.  _Several_  times. First Order technology is so advanced. It would make sense that their trackers are harder to find…

Suddenly, a thought occurs to her. Less like a thought, more like an instinct. She decides to follow it. 

“Ben…” she starts tentatively. “When you brought the Falcon back to me on Denash….” She pauses a moment. “Did you put a tracker on it?”

“I don’t need a tracker to find you, Rey.” He answers her immediately. There’s a darkness in his tone that makes her heart skip a beat. 

“You think we don’t know what the Resistance is up to? That we’re just in the dark? Your new bases, all your recruiting… We know.” Rey’s heart pounds in her chest as she speaks. Her breath becomes more uneven. 

“So, if you know, why aren’t you doing anything except chasing our recruiters out of town every now and then?” She shifts on the ground in her seated position, turning around to face him. His black eyes are solemn. He leans forward a bit, bringing his face close to hers.

“Because I’m not Snoke,” he says firmly. “I’m not cruel for cruelty’s sake. As long as the Resistance stays out of my way, I’ll stay out of theirs.” He nods deeply, raising a knowing eyebrow. Rey grunts softly, looking to the ground and shaking her head. 

“You know it won’t be like this forever,” she says quietly, eyes still downcast. “When the Resistance is strong enough…” She snaps up to look him dead in the eyes. “We’ll very much be in your way.” She maintains her gaze, strong, unwavering. He gazes back, piercing, warning. Their eyes remain locked for what seems like a lifetime.     

Then he abruptly disappears, dark eyes staring into hers one second, then gone the next. 

Rey lets out a long exhale, not realizing she was holding her breath. She looks down at the ground for a minute, lost in thought, an unsettling feeling churning in her belly. Suddenly, she twists around to look out of the cave. 

It’s not raining any more. She can even see the blue of the sky. 

She grabs her boots next to her and begins pulling them on. After she finishes, she rises and exits the cave, making her way down the steep mountain path carefully, relying on the cable to keep her from slipping in the mud.

Then she begins charging through the jungle, boots sinking into the wet earth as she goes, brushing greenery away with her arms. 

She’s half alert, keeping an eye on her surroundings, making sure she’s heading in the right direction. But she’s half in her head, mulling over what just happened, about him, the First Order, how he knew what planet she’s on…  

At first, she considers telling someone what she just heard— that the First Order is apparently very aware of their activities. But then, she’d have to explain  _how_  she knows this. That’s something she’d very much like to avoid if she can help it. And it’s possible that he was just bluffing, claiming to know more than he actually does.

But more than that, maybe there’s no  _need_  for her to tell anyone. There’s no need because… 

She struggles to finish the sentence in her mind. She can’t put it into words. It’s just a feeling. But where is it coming from?

She begins to think obsessively, digging into her mind, searching out the root of this feeling. She thinks about the story he just told her, about Snoke, about coming to this planet… and she thinks about what she saw when he let her into his mind to see how he felt about his father. She thinks about that moment on Starkiller, the walkway, when he was faced with that choice… and why he ultimately made the wrong decision. 

And just like that, the pieces of the puzzle snap together in her mind. She can’t believe she hasn’t seen it all along. It’s so obvious. Maybe a part of her always knew it… the truth buried somewhere in the back of her mind. Only now she can finally recognize it. 

She had been foolish to show up on the Supremacy and expect him to turn on a dime. It wasn’t a reasonable expectation. He’s been through too much, gone so far down this path…

But that didn’t happen overnight. No, Ben Solo’s turn to the darkness was a process. It happened over time. And he struggled with it the whole way, clearly. 

So, his turn back to the light… that must also be a process. 

 _This_  is what the bond is for. She’s sure of it now. A part of her has always known it. 

The bond is an instrument, something the Force has given her… a way to make her vision on Achc-To into a reality. 

Because Ben Solo’s turn to the light won’t be the result of one dramatic moment. No, it will be the product of many small moments. 

 _Yes._  This is it. This is the bond’s purpose.

She doesn’t need to tell the Resistance anything about the First Order and what they know because before all of this comes to a head, before the Resistance grows to become a true threat to the First Order…  _Ben Solo will turn_. 

“Hey, Rey!” 

The sound of Poe’s voice jerks her out of her thoughts. She looks up to see him jogging through the jungle briskly to meet her. He halts just in front of her, a bit breathless. 

“I see you survived your first monsoon,” he says with a little pride in his voice, as though he were responsible for her success. “Did you do what I told you? Find the high ground?” 

“Yes, it was actually kind of pleasant once I got out of the rain,” she smiles as she tells him. “Though I must say, I’m not a fan of lightening.” 

“Eh, you’ll get used to it.” He brings an arm around her back, guiding her forward. “Listen, I’m glad I found you because I’ve got some good news,” he continues. “We just heard from a merchant in a nearby town and  _apparently_  tomorrow we’ll be getting a delivery of free training equipment, tons of it— melee weapons, blasters, droids, even a bunch of speeders. And not pieces of junk either. New models. The good stuff.” 

Rey gapes at him, eyes wide with a mixture of joy and surprise. “But how? Where is this coming from?” 

Poe cocks his head. “Well, the merchant wouldn’t tell me much,  _but_  I’ve gotten to know a guy in town who said he was there when the donor came by. And get this— it was some local woman married to a guy who, rumor has it, used to be a member of the First Order.” At this, Rey stops dead in her tracks, looking to Poe urgently. 

“Who? What did he do with the First Order?” She leans in eagerly.

“Whoa! What’s with the reaction? Do you know something I don’t?” Poe turns to face her, furrowing his eyebrows. 

Rey shakes her head briskly. “No… just curious.” She tries to sound a bit more calm. Poe eyes her doubtfully but doesn’t goad her any further. 

“Well, if the rumor is to be believed,” Poe continues, “he was abandoned here. I don’t know what his rank was but I get the distinct feeling he was definitely no Stormtrooper. I also get the feeling he’s supposed to be dead, so I didn’t press it. Don’t want to get one of our donors in trouble, you know?” Poe glances over at her.

But Rey’s not looking at him. She’s staring intently ahead, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

She walks through the jungle next to Poe as he continues to prattle on. About what, she has no idea. She’s not really listening to him, lost in her own thoughts. 

Yes, the vision she saw on Achc-To wasn’t wrong. Just misinterpreted. 

Ben Solo  _will_ turn. Eventually.

She just needs to keep reminding him who he really is.


	11. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes on a search for her kyber crystal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "kyber." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

Darkness.

That’s all there is. That’s all there seems to be. At least, it would seem that way to most people.

But not to Rey.

It’s true her eyes see nothing but blackness.

Yet she knows to step around the jagged boulder just ahead.  She knows there’s a large opening in the ground not far and that if she fell, it would be a long way down. She knows this tunnel will soon curve sharply to the left.

And she knows she’s not far. Not far at all.

Her heart quickens with anticipation.

Only half an hour earlier, she’d been cursing herself for coming here. _So stupid_. She shouldn’t even be on this wasteland of a planet, nothing but grey skies and rocky, barren terrain. She should be back at the training base with the others.

And why had she come?

To chase a rumor. From an _extremely_ unreliable source. Just a conversation between two traders at a local bar, made in hushed whispers. She doesn’t even know why she decided to eavesdrop in the first place. But when she did, she heard something that’s been eating at her for _days_.

There’s kyberite on this planet, buried deep in its labyrinth of caves. 

Kyber. The strongest substance in the galaxy. Force-attuned crystals used to power lightsabers.

It easily could have been a dead end. Thirty minutes ago, she thought it was. Traders love to share secrets that aren’t true. And kyber might just be the rarest substance there is. The likelihood the man was lying or misinformed was astronomical.

Yet she came anyway. She can’t quite explain why.

She didn’t give much explanation to the others either. She didn’t even really say goodbye. She just left a recording with BB-8 saying she had something urgent to attend to and would return in a few days.

It’s as though she was drawn here by something beyond reason. Just a feeling, like a fingernail scratching in the back of her mind. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She needed to _know_ , one way or the other.

And now she knows.

The deeper she gets into these caves, the more she senses it. There’s something here, something that calls to her through the Force.

Could it be? Could it be _her_ crystal beckoning her to claim it?

She hates to admit it but… Ben got to her. It’s been months, but she’s found herself thinking about it more and more. What was it he’d told her?

“Find _your_ crystal. Forge _your_ destiny. Don’t fall back on someone else’s.”

At first, she was annoyed. She has a crystal. Skywalker’s. And it’s because of _him_ that crystal is now useless, tucked away on the Falcon, still lodged in a broken lightsaber.

But then she started thinking about it…

And maybe he was right. Skywalker’s crystal did call to her. But is it really _her_ crystal? She didn’t find it. Not in its natural state, anyway. And she’s no Skywalker.

Maybe there’s something else out there… something better… something just for her.

Rey turns to the left and begins to slow, walking more carefully as she senses the downward slope, the increasingly uneven ground, jagged crevices, some large, cutting through the floor of the tunnel. She touches the cave wall as she goes, just a small comfort to steady her.

Suddenly, she notices…

She’s starting to see. Ever so slightly. The shape of the tunnel seems to fade in, just barely visible.

The more she walks, the more she sees— the jagged curve of the cave walls, the sharp, dagger-like rocks above, the path in front of her almost like steps, large crevices followed by abrupt drops. She hops down one, then another. As she does, her heart beats faster.

She descends quickly, towards an opening just below— where the light’s coming from. She’s getting closer… almost there…

She hops down the last drop and bursts through the opening but then slows almost immediately. She takes a couple of dazed steps before halting outright.

Rey stands, mouth gaping, eyes wide yet soft. Her body swells with something she hardly knows how to describe. She’s never felt such a thing before. Maybe this is what people call… reverence.

She’s in a cavern as large as a hangar, at least thirty meters tall, a smooth floor of cracked, grayish earth stretching out before her.

It’s glowing. _Glowing_. Clusters of crystals of all shapes and sizes line the walls and the ceiling, radiating a bluish-white light. They give the cave a strange sort of vibrancy as though it were moving, pulsing. It seems to be alive somehow.

The air is thick with the tension of the Force, the interminable pull of competing energies. The crystals seem to heighten the sense of it so that what is normally a calm, steady reminder is now surging, flowing lifeblood, filling her with a larger sense of being. She feels less like herself and more connected to everything around her.

Some clusters are small, blue patches of light. Others are the size of speederbikes, large, round cylinders with pointed ends that glow so brightly Rey can’t look at them straight on.

She turns in place, gazing up and around. Her eyes are overwhelmed with the scene, yet she can’t stop eagerly taking it in.

This must be… the most beautiful thing in galaxy. She can’t imagine a rival. Surely, of all the things she’s seen since leaving Jakku, nothing could be more beautiful than this.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, gaping, before it occurs to her why she came.

She needs to find _her_ crystal.

It must be here. Why else would she have felt that magnetic pull to this very spot the deeper she got into the caves?

And yet… now that she’s here, she’s wondering if she was just feeling the heightened Force energy the crystals seem to create. Maybe…?

Rey looks down, a little lost. She’s not sure what to do, how to proceed. She bites her lower lip, thinking back. What was it he’d said?   

Jedi younglings would go to Ilum. They’d search for… days?

No, that can’t be right. How large were the caves in Ilum? They’d search until the right crystal called…

“The call is a bond.”

That’s what he said.

Ok. So… she’s bonded to it already…

Or once she hears the call? How does she hear it? Does she wander around listening for it? Or should she meditate first, letting it reach out to her, then follow it?

Rey takes a breath, then huffs it out. She looks up and around as if turning to the crystals for guidance.

Then she walks forward, stopping when she’s close to the center of the cavern. She takes a seat and settles into a meditative posture, legs crossed, back straight, shoulders resting lightly. She starts to focus on her breath, on bringing her body into a state of calm.

But it seems to be impossible. The atmosphere is thick with… something. Not just the heightened energy of the Force. There’s something else…

She tries to concentrate on her breathing, the rhythm of it, surrendering to that steady sureness, that calm.

 But ripples seem to run through her, tiny disturbances fraying her concentration. They waft by, seeming to whisper as they pass. It’s as if they’re…?

 _No_. No. That’s ridiculous.

Rey straightens, trying to reengage her focus. But the ripples, the whispers…. They tug at her attention.

 _What is that?_ It can’t be…?

The crystals. Are they… talking to each other?

No. _No_. That’s crazy.

She sucks in a breath, more sharply than she means to. She lets it out slowly.

Calm. She needs to be calm…

She takes another inhale, more purposeful this time.

That’s right. Back into the rhythm. Inhale and exhale.

Rey sits perfectly still, face titled upwards, appearing to be at peace.

But inwardly she’s squirming, constantly interrupted by these ripples swimming by her, seeming to speak without a voice. She fights to focus, fights to ignore the whispers passing through her like thoughts. But it’s not possible. Not with this noise in her head.

_How can she possibly hear her crystal through this?_

She lets out a frustrated exhale, her eyes flying open. She sets her jaw, then looks up and around at the crystals.

Are they the source of this? What else could it be?

She lets out another exhale, looking down, trying to figure out what to do. Her body feels unsettled, on edge.

That is, until she feels a warmth at her core.

_Uh oh._

She immediately closes her eyes and straightens, trying to breathe, slow inhales and exhales, as though she could stop the bond from bringing them together if only she could become calm enough.

But it’s no use. She feels his presence creeping ever closer.

She drops her shoulders and slouches, defeated. She’s already dreading his reaction…

She bows her head, waiting for the inevitable.

Her heart skips a beat when she feels his presence behind her. She doesn’t open her eyes or even move.

But she knows what he’s doing. She can picture it in her mind…

He’s taking in the surroundings, looking up and all over the cavern. She hears him take a few steps in front of her.

Finally, Rey opens her eyes. She stares at the ground for a few seconds, then looks up.

His back is to her, but not for long. He turns, his lips turned up smugly.

“You’re looking for your crystal, aren’t you?”

She stares up at him, wordless.

But he reads her anyway.

“Good.” He nods, sounding pleased with himself. “You should be.”

 ** _That._** _That right there._

That’s what she was dreading. That imperious “ _of course you’re doing what I told you to do because why wouldn’t you?_ ” tone in his voice.

She looks away, annoyed.

She _hates_ that he knows he got to her. But there’s nothing she can do about it now. She sighs, sitting in silence as he continues to examine the cave.

“Well, you’re not going to find it sitting there.” He walks over to her, extending a gloved hand. “Come on.”

She just stares at him, jaw set.

Part of her doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But another part of her can’t deny the truth, the reality… that he’s really the only one she knows who can help her.

She sighs heavily.

Then she takes his hand.

He helps her up and puts a hand at her back, leading her to a side of the cavern. She squints, averting her eyes as they get closer, some of the crystals so bright that their glow is almost painful. They stop just in front of the wall, and Ben’s arm slips from her back as he kneels before a round, medium-sized cluster about the size of a BB droid.

“Come here,” he commands softly, eyes fixed on the crystals.

She crouches next to him.

He glances at her and nods towards the cluster. “Touch one.”

She turns to face them and extends a hand tentatively. As she does, she notices the striations on the surface of the crystals, each one with a unique pattern. Her fingers are only inches away from the one in the center.

Suddenly, her hand snaps back, and she straightens, alarmed.

“Did you see that!?” She turns to Ben. “They just moved, or changed. Didn’t they?”

“They do that,” he informs her. “They can change their structure at will. It’s a defense mechanism. Don’t let it scare you.” He nods for her to try again.

She turns forward and lifts a hand, reaching out again towards the center crystal. As her hand nears, she sees it again, a kind of subtle change in the cluster as though they were reorganizing internally. It creates a soft flicker in their glow.

Finally, the tips of her fingers graze the surface of the crystal, a cylinder-shaped one with harsh angles. As her fingers slide across it, she feels it grow warm. She gasps softly as she stares at it, transfixed. She could swear it was pulsing, as though it were alive.

“It’s getting _warm_.”

“It’s reacting to you.” He leans towards her. “It’s reacting to your energy.”

“Does that mean it’s mine?” She turns eagerly.

“No.” He shakes his head. “They all do that.”

“Ah.” She nods briefly, then turns back to look at the cluster of crystals.

She moves her hand from the center, touching some of the others along the side. Each one warms slightly as her fingers graze across them. She touches all of them before withdrawing her hand. Then she stares at them for a moment, feeling uncertain. She turns to Ben, a question burning in her eyes.

He answers it before she can ask.

“Rey, you just have to explore, search,” he tells her frankly. “You’ll know your crystal when you find it.”

“But how?”

“ _Listen_.” His dark eyes descend towards hers. “Listen for the call.”

“The bond?” She raises an eyebrow.

He nods.

“It’ll sound like…” He purses his lips, searching his mind for the right word. He looks away, gazing at the crystals. He stares for a moment, then slips off a glove, reaching out to touch one.

“It sounds like a kind of song.” He withdraws his hand. “But no one song is alike. It’s different for everyone.” He gazes at the crystals, his eyes strangely distant.

Rey observes, sensing a strange mixture of emotions, as though he were reminiscing about a tainted memory, half pleasant, half painful. Her mind drifts to what he once told her about his own crystal…

How he bled it to become Kylo Ren. How it cracked. How he couldn’t admit it, denied it outright but…

This was ultimately an act of self-injury. To his soul.

Her heart twists as she watches him.

“Ben…” Rey begins softly. “How did you find your crystal?”

He immediately jerks back, awakening from his trance. He glances at her, then rises.

“We don’t have time for stories,” he says dismissively. “We need to find _your_ crystal. And that could take a while.”

She looks up at him, intrigued by this reaction. She considers pressing him about it, but decides not to.

For now.

She begins to rise.

 “Do I have to touch my crystal to hear its call?” She asks as she stands.

“No,” he shakes his head, looking up the wall and not at her. “You’ll hear it when…” he hesitates. “You’ll hear it when it’s ready for you to.”

“ _What?_ ” Rey jerks back.

“This isn’t a science, Rey,” he admonishes, shaking his head. “And you need to be prepared for the possibility that your crystal isn’t even here.”

At this, her eyes widen in disbelief. She looks down, her shoulders dropping in disappointment.

She knows it’s foolish, but she’d let herself become enchanted by the idea that her crystal was calling to her, that it was the reason she decided to eavesdrop on those traders, decided to come here against all reason… drawn by the call of something created _especially_ for her.

“Hey.” Ben places a hand on her shoulder, his tone softer now. She looks up and is met with gentle eyes. “It still could be here. And you have me to help you look, so you’ll find out twice as quickly.”

She nods, taking in a breath, determination renewing.

He nods back, then straightens, looking around the cavern.

“You start at this wall. I’ll go to the opposite end. Just explore, touch, and _listen_.” His gaze drifts upwards a moment. “Climb if you need to.” He gives another nod, then strides away.

“Wait!” She takes a few steps after him. “I don’t understand. I thought I was the only one who could hear my crystal?”

“Think about it, Rey,” he calls back without stopping.

She furrows her eyebrows, confused. She crosses her arms and turns back towards the cave wall.

  _Think about it_ , she mimics in her mind as she steps forward. _Think about what?_

Then it hits her.

The bond. _Their_ bond. If she shares his bond with his crystal, he must share the bond with hers. He’ll be able to hear its call.

She stops dead in her tracks, disquieted by this realization.

But there’s no time to dwell on that now. She needs to focus on _listening_.

She shakes off the feeling and continues to the cave wall, extending her hand towards a new cluster of crystals, this one small. As her fingers touch each one lightly, they seem to shimmer, the striations on the crystals subtly changing. Her eyes regard them with wonder, caught up in the spectacle. Then it occurs to her that she’s not listening.

Rey straightens and closes her eyes, relying on her second sight through the Force, one that won’t be distracted by the beauty of the cave. She continues to touch the crystals and begins to focus on her breathing, on bringing her mind into a calm open state. She walks forward towards another cluster.

She doesn’t make it to a third cluster before she notices it again. The ripples… those _constant_ distractions passing through her mind, tugging at her, fraying her concentration. She grits her teeth and tenses her body, as though trying to harden herself against them.

But it makes no difference. They pass through her freely, ephemeral, as though the physical world were nothing but a shadow.  

She relaxes her muscles, trying to refocus on her breathing. She’ll just have to endure this, try to listen through the noise. Maybe this is part of it? Part of the challenge.

She continues her progress, making her way through clusters of various sizes, keeping her eyes closed. She touches the crystals, trying to sense subtle changes in how each one feels, searching for the call, the song meant just for her.

But those damn ripples… entering her, whispering to her… 

_How can there be whispers without voices?_

It doesn’t make any sense. And yet that’s what it feels like.

These whispers, this noise… it’s starting to drive her absolutely _insane_. Her mind is growing increasingly exhausted by the constant battle to concentrate, to force her focus.

“ _Rey_ , you need to be patient,” Ben suddenly calls from across the cavern.

She opens her eyes and turns towards him.

“I am!” She protests.

“No, you’re not,” he yells back. “I can feel your frustration from here. You need to calm down. You won’t hear the call if you’re worked up like this.”

“ _I can’t hear anything through this damn noise anyways!_ ” Rey’s shout reverberates throughout the cavern.

She immediately jerks back, startled by her own voice.

Then she closes her eyes and takes a breath, fighting back tears pushing to the surface. She buries her face in her palms, squeezing her eyes shut.

She hears Ben approach swiftly. He stops just next to her, putting a hand on her back.

“Rey, what’s wrong?” She feels his concern, but doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tries to collect herself, breathing in slowly.

He strokes her back for a moment then drops his hand.

Finally, she straightens, opening her eyes. She crosses her arms and shakes her head, staring forward.

“How am I supposed to hear my crystal through all of this noise, the whispering, it’s _constant_.” She sounds desperate. “I can’t—”

“Wait, what!?” He interrupts her, eyes wide. “What do you hear?”

She looks up, confused by this reaction. “Do you not hear it too?” She knits her eyebrows.

He observes her closely, eyes intense with interest. He begins to shake his head.

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I don’t think I do. Not like you.” He continues staring, his expression strange, almost in awe.

She begins to feel self-conscious.  

“What exactly are you hearing?” He steps in closer.

She feels his fascination, his excitement at this discovery. She shrugs and looks around, unsure how to describe the experience.

“It’s like thoughts…” she starts tentatively. “Thoughts in another language. Without a voice. The just pass through, in and out, beyond my control.” She gestures with a hand on either side of her head.

“Does it sound like they’re coming from one source?  Or is it like many individuals?”

“Uh…” she hesitates. “Many, I think?”

He nods, processing this for a moment before stepping back. He straightens and looks around the cavern, his eyes full of wonder.

“You can hear the crystals,” he says without looking at her. “That’s… very rare. _Very_.”

Rey tilts her head.

“Wait a minute. So… the crystals are alive? They’re sentient?”

“Many have theorized that, yes.” He looks back at her. “Some have theorized they have a collective consciousness. But no one knows for sure. It’s in the nature of kyber crystals to elude study.”

Rey nods as he speaks, taking this in. 

Suddenly, a sly smile tugs at Ben’s lips.

“Of course, no one’s been able to _communicate_ with them before.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“I can’t communicate with them,” Rey balks, bringing a hand to her chest. “I have no idea what they’re saying.”

“I bet you could learn.” He steps closer towards her, eyes bright with possibility. “If you stayed in a place like this long enough, listened long enough.”

She grunts, taking a step back.

“If I did that, I think I’d go crazy.”

He narrows his eyes as if to challenge this, but doesn’t say anything. He just continues observing silently.

Rey crosses her arms and looks away, feeling self-conscious again. She presses her lips together, thinking.

“So…” she starts hesitantly. “What does this mean for finding my crystal? How do I hear its call when I can hear _all of them_?” She looks at him for guidance.

“I have no idea.” He shakes his head, at a loss.

She looks away, defeated by this answer. If he doesn’t know then, who would?

“Perfect.” She feels a wave of hopelessness wash over her. “That’s just… perfect.”

Disappointment hangs heavy, dragging her to the ground. She settles on the cracked earth and crosses her legs, leaning back against the cave wall. She stares into space, eyes dark and troubled.

Ben crouches slowly and takes a seat next to her. He’s thinking intensely, trying to work out a solution to her problem.

But several minutes pass and he says nothing. He must not be coming up with much.

She sighs, mentally drained, not sure what to do and too brain-weary to figure it out.

Then suddenly, a thought occurs to her.

She glances over at Ben but quickly looks away.

Maybe she can’t find her crystal, but that doesn’t mean this has to be a _complete_ waste. After all, the bond must have brought him here for a reason. Maybe this is an opportunity… an opportunity for another small moment. _A reminder_.

“Ben,” she starts tentatively. She glances over at him, and his dark eyes catch hers. “There’s something you can do that I think would really help.”

“What?” He leans forward, seeming to assent to her request before she asks.

She sits up a little and scoots towards him, clear eyes meeting his.

“You could tell me how you found _your_ crystal,” she says finally.

He immediately flinches and looks way, his face twisting into a grimace.

“Ben, _come on_ ,” she begs, leaning forward. “Please.” She looks up at him entreatingly but he’s not looking at her, arms crossed, jaw set, staring across the cavern. “You’ve actually done this before,” she goads him. “It will help me _so much_ to hear someone else’s experience.”

He still doesn’t look at her.

“Ben,” she pleads with him, scooting even closer, so close her knee grazes his. He’s sitting with one knee propped up, his right elbow resting on it, and the other on the ground. He’s staring at the cavern ceiling and not at her.

She leans forward, putting a hand on his thigh.

“ _Please._ ”

He finally glances down and is met by earnest eyes.

“ _Please_. I’m completely lost here. Maybe if you tell me how you found your crystal it will give me a clue about how to find mine.”

He sighs heavily, looking away.

“Rey, I really don’t think hearing about that will help you. You’re in a very unique situation. My experience doesn’t apply here.” He looks back decisively, shaking his head.

She studies him for a moment, searching for a chink in his armor. But his black eyes are cold, hardened against entry.

Rey sits up, withdrawing her hand and resting it on her lap. She looks down, mulling over various strategies in her head.

She’s not giving up on this battle just yet. Maybe she can coax him into it, little by little.

She purses her lips, then uncrosses her legs, lying back on the cavern floor and bringing both of her knees up. She rests her hands on her stomach.

“Well, can you at least tell me where you found yours so I know where else I can look.” She sighs, gazing up at the ceiling.

“Mine was at Christophsis.” This, at least, he offers freely. “But yours isn’t there.”

She continues to stare upward, thinking about what to ask him next.

But suddenly, her thoughts halt. She cocks her head, confused. In an instant, she sits up again, crossing her legs and looking to Ben.

He looks back, guarded.

“How do _you_ know my crystal isn’t there?” She demands.

He immediately looks away, as though caught in the act.

Her lips part as she studies him, searching his reaction to her question. And just like that, she realizes what he’s hiding.

She sits up straighter, a smile creeping across her lips. She tilts her head, regarding him softly.

“You’ve been looking for my crystal, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t speak or even look at her. But she knows the answer. She senses it in him, a tinge of embarrassment mixed with… something else. Something she can’t quite identify. Like… tenderness maybe?

Rey leans back, placing both palms on the ground behind her, propping herself up. She eyes him curiously, her lips still turned into a smile.

“So where have you looked?”

He still avoids eye contact, his gaze cast downward.

“Christophsis,” he says curtly. “And a couple of planets in the Unknown Regions.”

“Which ones?” She sits up, bringing her palms to her lap.

“None you would know of.” He glances at her before looking away.

Rey rolls her eyes, annoyed by his vague answers.

But annoyance quickly subsides, replaced by a complex tide of emotions. She’s perplexed as to why he’s taken the time to look in the first place, uncertain what could possibly motivate him to do such a thing.

What would he have to gain from finding her crystal?

She brings a thumb to her lip, thinking. What ulterior motive could be behind this…?

It’s difficult to say, considering how little she knows about kyber. It could be any number of things. And yet she can’t seem to quell a gut feeling…

He’s not looking because of anything he has to gain.

He’s just looking for her.

Rey drops her hand.

She glances up and is met by black eyes gazing back softly. He has that look again, the one that makes her feel… exposed.

Now she’s the one who looks away, pressing her lips together, a flutter in her stomach.

She takes a breath, trying to reset herself.

“Well…” She purses her lips. A few seconds pass. “I guess it’s a good thing you’ve been looking because I’m starting to think I can’t find it myself. Not with the whispers of a thousand crystals in my head every time I try to concentrate.”

“ _Rey_.” Ben leans towards her.

She looks up to find his face only a few inches from hers. She becomes entranced by his gaze, intense yet gentle.

“What you can do.” He smiles knowingly. “It’s not a curse. _It’s a gift_. It means you’re special.”

Something about the way he says this makes her heart skip a beat. Suddenly, she seems to forget everything. Coming here. Searching for her crystal. Hearing the whispers. Goading him to share how he found his crystal. Everything just melts away until there are only those dark eyes, seeming to look into her.

She senses his emotions change, deepen into something she’s not sure how to describe. The feeling is strong, so strong it could almost be her own. It’s a kind of heart-heaviness, like being weighed down. It’s painful but also… exquisite. A beautiful pain. It only feels unwelcome because of how overwhelming it is, a yearning that cuts straight through the heart.  

She’s so lost in his gaze, she doesn’t notice him lift his hand to her face.

She catches her breath, surprised when she feels his thumb at her cheek, stroking back a few strands of hair.

His eyes soften.

“Somewhere in the galaxy…” His voice is low, almost a whisper. “There’s a crystal just for you. And we’re going to find it.” He gives her a nod before dropping his hand.

Somehow, Rey finds the self-possession to nod back.

He tilts his head slightly.

Then she could swear he starts to lean in, to close the gap between her face and his.

But he disappears just as she sees the movement. Maybe it didn’t happen at all, just a trick of the eye.

She jerks back, jarred, still trying to work out what she saw, or what she _thought_ she saw.

She stares blankly for a few moments, so numbed she’s not quite aware of either her body or physical surroundings. She lost in her own head. Part of her is still lost in his gaze, in his warm assurance, his gentle touch. She casts her eyes downward, a thought beginning to creep around the edges of her mind.

Less of a thought… more like a realization.

But it doesn’t get far before she pushes it away.

She shakes her head briskly, pulling herself out of her stupor and back into the cave, back to her surroundings. She looks up and around at the crystals, considering what to do next.

After a few minutes, Rey rises and walks to the center of the cavern, taking a seat on the cracked earth. She crosses her legs and straightens, closing her eyes and resting her shoulders back.

This time, she doesn’t try to meditate or listen for the call of her crystal. She simply lets herself be still, at peace, with no agenda, no purpose other than to just be.

It doesn’t take long for the ripples to invade her once more, whispers passing freely in and out of her mind.

She doesn’t fight them. She doesn’t try to ignore them. She simply… observes them, lets herself be their conduit.

She finds that when she isn’t trying to concentrate on something else, the whispers aren’t so maddening. Now it’s just like being in a noisy marketplace, a thousand different conversations swirling around her. She still has no idea what they’re saying. But…

Maybe Ben’s right. Maybe she can learn. And if she does, maybe they can tell her where _her_ crystal is.

She takes a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of a _true_ calm. She tilts her face towards the ceiling and surrenders herself to the Force, to the heightened energy of the room, to the hum of the crystals incessantly communicating with each other.

Her crystal isn’t here. Somehow, she just knows it.

But she’s starting to think that’s not why she was drawn here. No, perhaps the real reason she needed to come here was to discover this thing about herself— her ability to hear the crystals, an ability that is apparently very rare.

At this, the moment replays involuntarily in her mind, what he said to her, about her.

“It’s not a curse. _It’s a gift_.”

She bows her head.

“It means you’re special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars nerds: I'm aware I played fast and lose with kyber crystal lore. Don't hate me!


	12. Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren struggles to negotiate for resources needed for the construction of Starkiller II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "games." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

“Sir, the extraction is nearly complete. Ninety percent of Ruusan’s varium deposits have been transported for the construction of Starkiller II. According to Colonel Vogt’s estimates, the rest should be mined within in the month.”

“Excellent.”

Kylo Ren’s voice is neutral, dispassionate. Yet, despite this, the officer feels his stomach turn every time the Supreme Leader speaks. Perhaps it’s the distortion of the mask that seems to give an undertone of menace to everything he says.

The man takes a deep breath in an effort to calm his nerves. He reminds himself there’s no reason to be nervous. Not today. Because today, thankfully, he has only good news to report.

“Continue.”

The Supreme Leader sounds impatient now. He stands with his back to the officer, hands clasped behind him, gazing out of the front wall of the room, a giant window that overlooks the port below. Sparks fly high just outside as First Order engineers and technicians scurry about their industrial business.  

“Yes, of course.” The officer endeavors to project confidence. “The extraction at Vurdon is at nearly sixty percent, estimated completion three months. Sarka is at forty-five percent, estimated completion six months. Orinda is at thirty percent, estimated—”

“What about the kyber on Lys?”

The man jumps a little when Kylo Ren interrupts him.

“Well…” the officer begins tentatively. “The extraction there is still under twenty percent. But, of course, you know how difficult it is to mine kyber. Their progress is slow but steady. Estimated completion is eighteen month—”

“Ten.” The Supreme Leader interrupts him again, still unmoving. “I want it done in ten.”

The man gulps and raises a hand to enter a note in his data pad. “I will inform Colonel Frise immediately.” He takes his time entering the information, already dreading passing along the order. Frise will not like this.  

Suddenly, the officer hears a door whir open behind him. He turns slightly to observe a younger man approaching swiftly, weaving around black chairs pulled out from the long, rectangular table in the center of the room, still in disarray from the meeting of generals not ten minutes before. He halts just next to the older man, clicking the heels of his boots and standing at attention.

“Sir,” the new arrival addresses the Supreme Leader in a deferent tone. “General Kas sent me to deliver the report from the negotiations with the Lonerans.”

Kylo Ren doesn’t acknowledge him or even move at all. He still coldly regards the port below, his back to the officers. The younger man casts a glance to the older one beside him, as if seeking a hint on how to proceed. The older man shoots him an angry look, jerking his head emphatically towards the Supreme Leader.  The young man nods briskly, fear flashing across his face.

“The negotiations...” He immediately pauses, hesitant to continue. The older officer begins to get a sick feeling in his gut. “The negotiations did not go as planned. Our terms were rejected.” 

Kylo Ren’s head turns slowly to the side.

“And what about our terms was unacceptable?” His voice sounds calm, but the older officer is not fooled by this. That sick feeling is joined by a tightness in his chest.

“Th—”

“Was it the money?” The Supreme Leader cuts him off.

“No.” The younger officer gulps.

“Was it the timeline?”

“No.” His face starts to grow white.

“Was it the oversight?”

“No, it wasn’t really any of the terms _per se_.” The younger man glances over at his comrade and takes an uneven breath. “It was more that… well. It seems to be that there was an impression, a concern, that perhaps…” He gulps again. “Perhaps we wouldn’t honor the terms.” Kylo Ren’s head turns forward to face the port again.

“Go on.” The menace in his voice is no longer an undertone. The older officer closes his eyes and braces himself.

“Well…” the younger man starts. “At least one of the Lonerans, er… perhaps more than one, I believe…” He licks his lips nervously. “Mentioned… mentioned something about… Garos.”

In an instant, a dozen chairs fly across the room to crash against the back wall, several of them hitting the officers on their way, knocking them both flat on their backs. The men scramble to their feet.

“ _GET OUT!_ ” The Supreme Leader rages towards them, and they immediately turn to swiftly exit the room, the younger man breaking into a full on run after a couple of steps.   

Kylo Ren grits his teeth and lets out a low, guttural growl as the door whirs shut. He clenches his fists, body taut, and begins manically pacing the length of the room, back and forth.

_Garos. Garos. **Garos**_ **.**

He repeats the word angrily in his mind.

 ** _Garos_** **.** **_Garos_**. **_GAROS_**.

He begins to tremble violently.

There it is again… that fire in the blood. Rising. Raging. Exploding through his veins like a river of flame, consuming his muscles, his skin, his mind with an untamed fury that threatens to burn him alive from the inside out.  

 _If he has to hear about_ **_Garos_** _and Hux’s_ _idiocy_ **_one more time_** —

Without thinking, he ignites his lightsaber and cleaves the rectangular table beside him in two, almost directly in the center. The two sides fall, back edges crashing to the floor like bookends.

Kylo Ren charges through the newly formed opening and begins hacking and slashing at the console at the right wall, red sparks flying in fiery bursts around him. He rips and rends furiously, again and again and again and again, until the screens before him, once alive with data, are nothing but twisted, melted hunks of metal.

With each stroke, his anger seems to magnify, doubling, tripling, quadrupling, until he feels like pure rage, no longer a man, no longer flesh and blood, but a combustion of fiery energy blasting infinitely outward to consume everything in its path.

Finally, he stops, switching off his saber and breathing heavily. His body still trembles with rage, fists still clenched tightly, face dripping with sweat inside his mask. He almost switches the saber on again for another round but freezes just before his thumb ignites the blade. A horrible realization hits him at once.

For a split second, he could swear his heart stops beating in his chest. 

He whips around to find Rey standing behind him. She’s gaping at him with a look of complete shock, eyes wide and face white.

Kylo immediately turns and strides swiftly away to the giant window at the end of the room, clumsily fumbling to reattach his lightsaber to his belt. He halts just at the window and reaches up to remove his mask, pulling it overhead and clutching it tightly to his side with his right arm. 

He fixes his gaze on the sharp edges of a TIE fighter in the port below, trying to focus on the shape of it, focus on _anything_ to distract him, to bring his body back to a state of calm. But he’s too worked up, that fire in his blood coursing through him, an unforgiving torrent of rage. He shudders, deeply rattled by the situation.

This is a first.

He always feels it before the bond brings them together. _Always._ It’s usually only seconds of warning, but precious seconds, seconds that allow him to somewhat prepare for the inevitable. _What the hell happened this time?_

He’s still seething, exhales like fumes pushing out of his lungs. There’s no stopping this. No putting the fire out. No calming down. He knows that.

So, he finally turns around to face the back of the room.

Rey is now standing in front of the console he destroyed, arms hanging loosely beside her, regarding the dripping, melted metal with wide eyes. The initial shock seems to have worn off, but she’s still gaping as if she’s trying to make sense of what she’s seen. Eventually, she closes her mouth and crosses her arms, staring downward, seeming to be lost in thought.

A few seconds later she looks up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m starting to understand why you have high blood pressure,” she announces decisively.

Kylo grunts and buries his face in a palm, turning back towards the window. In one swift motion, he slicks his gloved hand over his face, wiping a layer of sweat from his skin. He gives another shudder, as if he could shake off the angry tension in his body.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps walk to the back of the room. A moment later, he hears scraping on the floor behind him, the sound drawing progressively nearer. It stops when he feels Rey’s presence just beside him.

“Sit down,” she commands. He glances over at her. She nods her head to the chair she’s placed behind him.

“ _Sit down_ ,” she commands again, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to the chair. He turns back to face the window in front of him and lets out a heavy sigh.

Then he does as she asks.  

He takes a seat, leaning down to place his mask on the floor then sitting up and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Rey moves directly in front of him and crouches, her forearms resting lightly over her left knee. She looks up at him with a solemn expression.

“You need to _calm down_ ,” she says firmly. “You feel like an engine that’s about to blow.”

He pushes out another angry exhale, looking away, gritting his teeth, irritated with everything— with Hux, with himself, with her, with the bond for bringing them together at _yet another_ inconvenient time.

“Hey,” Rey says softly. He looks back down at her and notices her expression is gentle now, her gaze concerned. His jaw relaxes a bit.  

“Just… close your eyes,” she coaxes in a soothing tone. “Close your eyes and focus on breathing for a few minutes, ok?”

He sighs, glancing up to the ceiling and shaking his head impatiently. He knows that won’t work.

“ _Close your eyes_ ,” she repeats, rising slightly to cover his eyes with her palm. He sighs again but does as she asks. After a few moments, he feels her palm slip from his face and, to his surprise, wrap around his forearm to wrench it free. He uncrosses his arms and she takes his right hand into hers, squeezing it gently.

“Just breathe,” she coos, almost at a whisper. “Focus on inhales and exhales.”

Kylo takes a breath but he doesn’t focus on it. He’s been through this enough times to know that won’t help.

So instead, he focuses on her, on her presence, on her thumb stroking his gloved hand ever so slightly. She feels like the calm center of a storm, a peaceful heart beating steadily in the midst of chaos. He imagines her crouching down in front of him, looking up at him with clear, brown eyes. He thinks about the soft angles of her face, the glow of her skin, the curve of her lips…

And, slowly but surely, he feels the rage release, as if seeping from his pores into the air around him. The fire in his blood subsides, then eventually dies down altogether.

 _Now_ he focuses on breathing, taking a deep, satisfying inhale and letting it out in a long, measured stream. He does this a couple more times before opening his eyes.

Rey’s looking up at him almost exactly as he pictured her, but with a pleased expression on her face.

“ _See_ ,” she intones a bit smugly. “Better now, isn’t it?” He grunts, looking at her with a wry expression.

“Sure,” he responds dryly. She rolls her eyes and withdraws her hand from his, standing and crossing her arms.

“I can sense your emotions, Ben. I know that it worked.” She raises an eyebrow and cocks her head with self-certainty. “You just need to remember to do that the next time, ok? Preferably _before_ you destroy half the room.” She nods at him with a pointed expression. He grunts again, looking down.

He feels her regard him for a moment before she steps to the side and walks a few paces away. He waits several seconds before glancing at her furtively. She’s turned towards the window, her face close to the glass, peering curiously at the activity in the port below.  

He joins her, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, gazing out of the window ahead. They both watch silently for a few minutes.

Kylo’s eyes are fixed on the port, but he doesn’t really see it. He’s in his own head, perplexed, thinking through things as though working out a problem.

It’s uncanny. He’s starting to notice it more and more. The effect her presence has on him. His mind will be consumed with frustration or fury or impatience, his body wracked with tension, constantly on edge. Then the bond brings them together and… it all disappears within minutes. It feels like being reset.

He can’t pinpoint exactly why this happens. Maybe it’s just that she’s naturally more even-tempered, calmness personified, and he absorbs some of this through the bond when she’s near him. Maybe it’s just the distraction, the change in pace. His interactions with her are so different from everyone else. With her, he can actually have a conversation. Or maybe—

“Do you…” Rey’s voice interrupts his thoughts. She pauses for a moment. “Do you have any hobbies, things you do to relieve stress, get your mind off things?” She glances over at him. He sits up, caught off guard by the question. He looks at her briefly then crosses his arms, staring straight ahead.

“I don’t have time for that.” He shakes his head briskly, irritation in his voice. “Besides, what good would it do?”

“Uhhh…” Her tone is patronizing. “Because maybe it would help you avoid _this_.” He looks up to see her gesturing emphatically to the room behind them. He rolls his eyes and shifts in his chair.

“Ben,” she continues, putting a hand on her hip. “I really think it would help you if your life were less…” She pauses, eyes glancing up to the ceiling, searching for the right word. “Joyless,” she concludes finally, looking back down at him. He stares at her with a neutral expression. Her shoulders drop as she lets out a huff, clearly exasperated.

“Ben,” she takes a step towards him, eyes fixed intently on his. “What I felt in you today… That’s not good. And I’ve felt it before, just not that extreme. You can’t walk around feeling like that all the time without it taking a toll on you, on your body, on your mind. You need to _consciously_ do things to help you relieve stress, to not get so worked up at everything.”

He looks away from her, pushing out an exhale, uncomfortable with how much she seems to know about what’s come to feel like a default state of being.

Suddenly, his head jerks back, a thought occurring to him. He casts a glance over at her with a glint in his eye.

“Do want to go to the training room for a rematch?” He squints at her in challenge.

“ _No._ ” She waves her right arm emphatically, index finger pointed. “ _No_ ,” she repeats. “You need a hobby that doesn’t involve hitting things. Something that’s actually _relaxing_.” Instantly, she perks up, an idea springing to mind.

“Do you ever play games?” She asks excitedly.

“Rey, no.” He shifts away from her, shuddering in irritation. “I don’t have time for games.”

“What about right now?” She probes, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders. “You’re not doing anything right now.” She looks down at him pointedly. He stares back with a cold expression. “Come on,” she goads him, taking another step forward. “Play a game with me. I’ll teach you one. It’s very easy.”

Before he can protest, she turns and begins walking swiftly towards the tangled mass of chairs in the back of the room. He sighs heavily, twisting around in his chair to watch her go.

Surely, she must be joking. He doesn’t play games. He can’t remember the last time he played a game. And what the hell are they going to play in an empty room?

He regards her closely as she struggles to free a chair from the disordered pile, tilting his head and pursing his lips. She turns with one in hand, and he whips back forward, listening to her footsteps draw nearer.

“Alright.” He hears her declare behind him in an upbeat tone. She arrives and places her chair next to his, sitting down and scooting towards him a little. “This is a game I used to play almost every day on Jakku.”

“Sorry,” he deadpans. “There aren’t any granules of sand to count here.” She shoots him a glare, but suppresses it quickly, shaking off her irritation and straightening in her chair.

“This is a very simple game I used to play while standing in line for portions at Niima Outpost,” she begins, sounding almost chipper. “It’s very easy. You don’t need anything to play it except for people to watch and a little imagination.”

“Rey, I don’t want to do this.” Kylo twitches his jaw. He can’t stop his face from contorting into a grimace.

“ _Ben_.” She still tries to sound upbeat but there’s an undertone of frustration in her voice. “Just try it. Just once. It won’t kill you.”

“It’s a waste of time,” he growls, sitting back in his chair.

“Oh yeah?” She asks incredulously. “Well, what else are you going to do right now? Sit here and brood in silence? Is that a better use of your time?” She leans forward, a little fire in her eyes. He breaks his gaze, twitching his jaw again, unsure of how to rebut this.

“ _Ben_.” He hears her chair scrape on the floor as she scoots closer to him, her knees grazing his. She’s still leaning forward, trying to catch his eye again. He finally glances at her.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, the purpose of the bond is to give you a chance to,” she sputters a little. “Just…” She pushes out a frustrated exhale. “ _Be a human being for once?_ ” She finally finishes, her eyes pleading with his.

Kylo stares at her, unblinking and unmoving. Several seconds pass before he takes a measured inhale. 

“Fine. What’s your stupid game.” He says this like a statement, his voice monotone in petulant reluctance.

Rey’s eyes brighten slightly as she straightens in her chair, the corners of her lips turning up. She sighs, half pleased, resigned to the reality that this is as close to victory as she’ll get.

“Ok then,” she starts, looking pert. She nods her head toward the window then leans forward, examining the bustling port below. It’s alive with the activity of what must be over a hundred engineers. He leans forward as well, resting his forearms on his knees, still fighting an inner twitch of resistance.

“So, like I said, it’s easy.” Her voice sounds a bit distant, her focus on scanning the port. “The first thing you have to do is pick a person, someone you don’t know much about.” She glances over at him. “Go ahead and pick someone and I’ll do the same.” She nods her head then resumes her outward gaze.

He holds in a sigh, his eyes briefly rolling up to the ceiling. Then he looks out into the port below at what looks like a hive of ants to him, anonymous black figures scurrying about their business, oblivious to all but their designated tasks. At first, it’s difficult to focus, to pick out an individual from the masses. But then he notices a tall, bald man in an officer’s uniform standing near one of the TIE fighters, giving out orders to a cluster of technicians standing in front of him. His mind drifts to the Silencer malfunctions. Surely those idiots at Sienar-Jaemus have managed to fix the problem by now…

“Ok, I have mine.” Rey interrupts his thoughts. “What about you?” He nods curtly in response, still staring forward.

“Good,” she replies, pleased that he seems to be playing along. “Now, this is the fun part. Imagine…” she draws out the word, then pauses a moment. “Where this person is from,” she continues. “What their backstory is, what might have brought them here. Think about it for a minute, then we’ll share.”

Kylo purses his lips, his eyebrows furrowing, trying to figure out exactly what’s supposed to be fun about this. He sits up abruptly, shaking his head.

“Rey, what the hell kind of game is this?” He demands bruskly.

She sits up as well, looking a bit bruised at his tone, her lips parted in a slight pout.

“Haven’t you ever heard of Sarrac? Dejarik? Outlander?” He probes in disbelief.

“ _Yes_ ,” She responds defensively. “But I didn’t have access to those kinds of games and Jakku and even if I did…” Her voice trails off. She looks down, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She starts to speak then stops, leaning over towards the window instead, resting an elbow on her knee and propping her chin up with her palm. A few seconds of silence pass.

“I didn’t have anyone to play with,” she finishes finally.

He immediately feels a twist in his heart.

That’s right… he forgets how lonely her life was there. Going entire days without speaking. Months without feeling the touch of another person, even just the bush of someone’s fingers along hers. He saw this in her mind on Starkiller. Her memories poured into him like a flood. Hot days filled with longing. Nothing to do but work to survive and imagine… imagine the lives of others. Imagine a better life for herself. Or her favorite pastime… Imagine her parents coming back to claim her, to whisk her away from her monotonous existence.  

He regards her softly as she gazes out into the port, her body rocking slightly from side to side. He feels a wave of compassion wash over him.

He scoots back in the chair and leans forward again. He glances over at her then looks away.

“Why don’t you go first.” He tries to sound in good humor. “Show me how it’s done.” He feels her perk up a bit next to him.

“Alright,” she assents easily, dropping her palm from her chin and wiggling forward in her chair, lips parting slightly as she leans towards the window with bright eyes. He can’t help but smile a little at her girlishness.

“Do you see that fellow over there, the little one?” She points to a less populated area of the port, a corner with a towering stack of black metal cases. A single young man, blonde in a black cap, is organizing the cases into three smaller piles.

“He looks like he’s from Hanna City, on Chandrila. He looks _very_ well-manicured, _very_ well-kept. I bet his parents were wealthy. Maybe they wanted him to be a statesman, work with the Senate in some way. But he didn’t want that because he thought it would be boring. So, he joined with the First Order, thought he’d finally get to see some adventure. Now he’s sorting crates into piles on a dreadnought, wondering if he should have become a statesman instead.” She casts a glance over at him, a teasing twinkle in her eye.

He suppresses a smile, amused by her little fantasy in spite of himself. He feels the corners of his lips turning upward despite his efforts to maintain neutral expression.

Rey smiles back at him, parting her lips to stick the tip of her tongue out for a moment before withdrawing it and biting her lip, straightening a little.

“Your turn.” She juts her chin towards him, her face falling even. He purses his lips and looks out of the window, searching for the officer who caught his eye before. Once he finds him, he studies him for a few seconds, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“Do you see that man, the bald one, standing next to the TIE fighter, the large black ship?” He looks over at Rey and she nods. He looks back to the officer.

“He…” His voice trails off, uncertain of where to go next. Suddenly, he seems to have forgotten the names of all cities and planets. He squints, trying to conjure _something_ from his mind. After a few seconds, he sighs and sits up, shaking his head.

“I hate to tell you this, Rey, but most of these people are from shithole planets in the mid rim. Nothing exciting. It’s depressing, actually.” He crosses his arms and looks out at the black figures scurrying like ants.

“You’re _horrible_ at this.” He turns to find Rey gaping at him, half-frustrated, half-disbelieving. She leans forward a little, eyes fixed on his. “Ben, the point isn’t to think of things as they are but as they could be. Are you telling me you’re incapable of imagining things beyond the reality?” She raises her eyebrows with a hint of challenge.

He sighs, rolling his eyes, looking away and back out of the window. He sits up, arms still crossed, and squints again as if somehow it will give him focus.

No luck. His mind is blank. He tries to think of a story of some kind, something he might have heard in the halls of the dreadnaught…

“You really are bad at this.” Rey says this like a revelation now, sitting up with her hands in her lap, studying him with wide-eyed curiosity.

“I’m sorry, Rey.” He uncrosses his arms and shrugs his shoulders, looking down. “I’m not good at games. I never have been. Even when I was a boy.” He grunts softly, shaking his head.

“So…” She starts, uncertain. “Are you saying you never imagined things as a boy, imagined different futures for yourself?”

He takes a breath and knits his eyebrows, letting his mind wander to a place it rarely goes.

“Surely, I must have…” he says slowly, carefully descending into a foggy collection of memories. “But I don’t really remember.” He shakes his head briskly, unwilling to press any further. “Mostly I just remember building things.”

“What kinds of things?” She asks.

“Models, mostly.” He still looks down to the floor and not at her. “Models of ships, speeders, buildings, weapons. Every now and then I’d graduate to building _actual_ things, whenever my father would let me near his junk.” He lets out a half-laugh but feels himself darken not a moment later, his throat tightening like it does every time he thinks about his father.

She seems to sense the shift in him, deciding not probing any further. Instead, she turns in her chair to face fully towards the window and sits calmly next to him. They stare out at the port for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word.

“Can I ask you something?” Rey breaks the silence abruptly. He turns his head towards her slightly.

“ _Don’t_ answer if you’re going to get all worked up again, but…” She pauses for a moment as if considering whether or not to continue. “What was it that got you so angry before I came here?” She narrows her eyes, curious.

He sighs and sits up, crossing his arms and twitching his jaw. He looks at her warily for a few seconds. Finally, he decides the best response is to meet her question with one of his own.

“What have you heard…” He starts carefully, “about _Garos_?” He articulates the last word like a curse.

Rey immediately looks away, hardening, her emotions changing on a dime. She once felt open, relaxed. Now she feels stiff and guarded.

“I heard…” she starts quietly, not looking at him, “that the First Order showed up on their doorstep, demanding they give over full control of their mines, their most precious resource, for meager compensation.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “They flooded the mines with a quarter of their population in response, just trying to keep the First Order out. There was a standstill for weeks, failed negotiations.” She shakes her head, sitting up and crossing her arms. “Then General Hux finally struck a deal with the leader. He promised that the First Order would employ them all, would pay them double their regular wages. So, they finally left the mines.” Rey pauses and gulps, staring intently downward.

“And he slaughtered them,” she finishes in a low voice.

Kylo grits his teeth and looks away, sucking in an angry breath. He feels Rey’s eyes on him.

“I sense you don’t approve.” She says this like a question, sounding almost relieved.

He tenses and jerks his head.

“Hux claims they started it, opening fire on him and his men.”

“Do you believe him?” She asks quietly.

“ _No_ ,” he spits out the answer in an angry bite, staring into the floor, jaw tightened. “I believe they _humiliated_ him and he wanted them to pay for it in blood.” He pushes out an exhale, clenching his fists. A minute passes in silence.

“So, what would you have done?” He waits a second before glancing to Rey. She’s sitting up straight, hands in her lap, face solemn.

“I would have honored the damn terms.” He uncrosses his arms and leans forward emphatically, eyes intent on hers. He maintains his gaze for a moment and she stares back, trying to read him. Suddenly, he looks away, sitting up and wiping a gloved hand over his face.

“Of course, it never would have happened in the first place if Hux had more oversight.” He sighs heavily, eyes fixed forward on nothing. He clenches his fists again.

“Hux doesn’t go anywhere _near_ negotiations now,” he continues with an undertone of rage. “He’s on a _short leash_.” He growls the last words through his teeth. “But the damage is already done. Now every time we negotiate with a planet for anything, Garos gets brought up again and again and _again_.” He feels his blood quicken as he speaks. He stops to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. His shoulders drop as he hunches over, shaking his head. “No one trusts us.”

Rey scoffs beside him. “Why would they?” She challenges him. “What have you done to show that your trustworthy?” He balks at her, surprised at the confidence in her voice. He starts to speak but stops, realizing he doesn’t have anything to say. His eyes drift upward as he considers her question, considers how to answer it.

“Exactly.” She interrupts his thoughts after several seconds. “Nothing.” She answers for him definitively. “Of course, no one trusts you,” she continues. “You’ve given them every reason not to and no reason to think otherwise.” 

He grunts and looks away from her, irritated but also… intrigued. Her purses his lips, looking down for a minute, then turns his head towards her.

“So, what would you do,” he starts with a glint in his eye, “as _Supreme Leader_?” He raises an eyebrow. “To regain trust?”

Rey grunts softly and looks away. “You’re not regaining trust,” she says after a moment. “Because you never had it in the first place.” She sits up, her arms still crossed. “You have to work on developing it.”

“And how would you do that?” He probes, regarding her expectantly. She gazes out the window for a minute, thinking. Then she looks over at him, almost slyly.

“I would _build things_.” She leans towards him, raising a knowing eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “I would show people you’re not just there to take their resources, then be on your merry way.”

“We pay handsomely for their resources, more than anyone else would,” he assures her with a sharp turn of the head.

“So?” She shrugs her shoulders. “Money doesn’t last forever. And really, will the average person on any of these planets see much of that at all? To them you’re just showing up, ripping up the ground, taking everything from them, then leaving behind nothing but a giant hole.” She cocks her head pointedly.

He straightens and takes a deep breath, struck by this. He presses his lips together, looking downward, lost in thought.

“Maybe,” he hears Rey continue beside him, “you should show people you’re about more than just destruction. Maybe you should leave something behind that reminds them of that.” Without quite realizing it, he brings an index finger to his lips, pondering deeply, an idea forming in mind.

 _Huh…_ It’s bold but it could work. It’s worth trying, at least.

He ponders for a minute, thinking about the feasibility of this idea. Suddenly, he straightens and turns back towards Rey, a question on his lips.

But he’s startled to find that there’s no one next to him. Just an empty chair where Rey used to be.

That feeling descends upon him, the one that always does whenever the bond takes her away. That feeling of being with someone, connected to someone… disappearing abruptly. It’s disappearance making the loneliness that comes after all the more biting, all the more painful.   

He sighs and hangs his head. For a minute, he sits in silence in an empty room, just… missing her. Missing her presence. Missing her company, her conversation.

Suddenly, he shakes his head briskly, then leans over to grab his mask from the floor. He stands, tucking it into the crook of his left side and holding it there while he grabs his master comm from his belt and brings it up to his lips.

“I need a message delivered to General Kas,” he commands into the comm. A few seconds pass. Then he hears a response crackle through on the other end.

“Yes, sir. What’s the message?”

“Tell him to meet with the Lonerans again in three days to offer them the same terms. With one addition.” He pauses, dropping the comm a bit for a moment, considering what he’s about to do one last time. Then he nods his head to himself as he brings it back to his lips.

“If they accept our terms, we’ll rebuild the Temple of Ashaii.”

“The one destroyed by the Empire, sir?” He hears the befuddled operator ask.

“Yes, _that one_ ,” He commands decisively. “We’ll import all the necessary materials, the manpower, everything they need. The reconstruction starts the moment they accept.”

“I’ll pass the order along straight away, sir.” The comm crackles for a second then goes dead. Kylo reattaches it to his belt then takes his mask into both hands, bringing it overhead and clicking it back into place.

That will be expensive. But worth it. _If_ it works.

If it does, it could serve as an important symbol. A way to show the galaxy that the First Order _is not_ the Empire. They aren’t here to just take and destroy but also to… build things. Yes, this could be how they finally move past the Garos disaster…

He gazes out at the port for a few minutes, hands clasped behind his back, watching the engineers busily go about their work. He can’t help but notice that they don’t seem like ants to him anymore. Now he picks out individuals from the crowd for one reason or another. He wonders what ridiculous story Rey would make up about them in her head.

As he gazes out into the port, he can’t help but hear her voice echo in his mind.

“The point isn’t to think of things as they are but as they could be. Are you telling me you’re incapable of imagining things beyond the reality?”

Finally, he turns from the window and walks swiftly to the door at the back of the room. It whirs open and he charges into the wide hall of the dreadnaught, lost in thought.  

_Incapable of imagining things beyond the reality…_

He scoffs inwardly. If only she knew.

Oh, he imagines things. He imagines things all the time.

He imagines how his life would be different if she’d taken his hand in the throne room. He imagines what it would feel like to have a partner in all of this, someone to help him think through problems like Garos, keep wild cards like Hux in line. He imagines what it would be like to have someone he respects and trusts to talk with, to think about the best ways to bring order to this galaxy.

Just recently, he’s imagined how much easier it would be to mine kyber if he had someone who could actually _communicate_ with it, unlock its secrets. Right now, he can’t help but imagine having someone like Rey oversee the negotiations with the Lonerans, someone who knows what it means to live on these poor, desperate planets.

And he imagines what it would be like to come back at the end of the day not to an empty room but to Rey. He imagines…

He imagines all kinds of things.

Kylo Ren walks swiftly through the halls, not seeing the officers and technicians darting out of his way, not seeing much of his surroundings at all. Only the images in his mind.  

Normally, imagining these things feels painful, bittersweet. Because he knows he’s imagining a future that will never be.

And yet… he’s starting to think that perhaps this future isn’t as unattainable as he once thought.

His mind instinctively wanders to the kyber cave, to Rey discovering she can hear the crystals. He thinks about that final moment with her, alone in the cavern, the glow of the crystals all around them, her face inches from his, her eyes lost in him.

He could have taken her if he wanted to. Right then and there. Captured her lips with his like he’s imagined doing so many times.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t because that wouldn’t have been wise. He learned his lesson in the throne room. She’s easily scared away. She’s not ready yet, not ready to accept her destiny. For a time, he thought she never would be.

But the bond… It keeps bringing them together. It keeps giving her an opportunity to see, _to feel_ the truth.

She’s always trying to figure out the bond, always searching for its purpose. All the while, it’s right under her nose.

He’s beginning to see it, though. He’s beginning to see it more and more every time. It’s so obvious, as clear as day.

The bond is an instrument, a means to show Rey the truth that she seems so intent on avoiding.

Her place, _her destiny_ , is with him. To rule over the galaxy beside him. To be his partner.

To be _his_.

He was a fool to expect her to see this in the throne room. It was too overwhelming for her. After Luke, Snoke, the guards, learning about her parents… It was too much for her to take in all at once. She couldn’t think straight. He understands that now.

No, Rey needed time. Time to think things over. And time with him.

In this, the bond has been _invaluable_. Every time it brings them together, it’s another opportunity for her to feel her destiny, to feel that she belongs with him.

Yes, Rey will come to see this eventually. He just needs to be patient and _careful_. He can’t rush things. He doesn’t want to frighten her. He needs to take it slow, to approach this like what it is, what it must be.

A process.


	13. Lost and Found, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is interrupted during a meeting with his generals.

“I can tell you right now, the Salient System is going to a problem.”

The general leans in, resting a forearm on the table. His demeanor is confident yet casual.

“Two of the three planets aren’t even run by their governments. It’s the gangs that control everything— the resources, the trade. They’re the true law enforcement.”

“Felucia and Five Points are no different.” Another general sits back, blue eyes cutting, flecks of gray showing in his otherwise blonde hair. “So many of these Outer Rim planets are _overrun_ with lawless rabble. And as long as they are, they can’t really be considered under our control.”

“Well then.” General Hux brightens, sitting up. “When you put that way, it sounds as though these systems can be considered in outright rebellion against the First Order and therefore should be dealt with accordingly.”

A few of the generals glance at each other. Several look to the Supreme Leader who paces around the meeting table, hands clasped loosely behind him.

“And how would you have us _deal_ with them?” Kylo Ren asks through the distortion of his mask.

General Hux straightens.

“I’d set up a blockade.” He leans in with a sinister glow. “No one can enter or exit the system. Cut off all intergalactic trade. Starve them into submission. Trust me.” He sits back smugly. “After a month without trade, these planets will be putty in our hands. They’ll do _anything_ to get their trade routes back.”

“You do realize…” An elderly general cocks his head. “That many of these planets import most of their food supply?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s why I said _starve_ them.” Hux stares at the general. The two men glare at one another as if sizing up an opponent before a fight.

“No.” The Supreme Leader breaks the tension. “There will be no blockade. Not yet.”

“Why not?” Hux blusters, snapping to the Supreme Leader.

He’s standing in front the large window now, overlooking the port below. His shoulders are relaxed, his hands clasped behind him.

“Because,” he starts matter-of-factly, “I want a firm grip on the galaxy, not a crushing one. If we starve half the Outer Rim planets, we’ll create more problems than we solve.” He pauses, gazing at the black-clad workers scurrying about their business. “The more we tighten our grip, the more star systems will slip through our fingers.”  

Hux grunts.

“That sounds familiar.” His lips twist snidely. “Where did you hear that?” He tilts his head. “ _Your mother_?”

In an instant, Hux’s face bashes into the hard surface of the table. He falls off his chair, a hand flying up to cover his nose, now gushing with blood. He takes short, shallow breaths, trying to recover from the shock.

“That’s exactly where I heard it from.”

The Supreme Leader turns to face the generals. He resumes his pacing, his demeanor disquietingly calm.

“Consider this,” he continues in his distorted voice, “one of my many strengths as your leader.”

He strides past Hux still on the floor, desperately trying stop the flow of blood.

“The woman who was a leader the Rebellion that destroyed the Empire…” He rounds the table. “The woman who now leads the Resistance intent on destroying us...”

He halts.

“I know her. I know how she thinks.” He scans the generals seated at the table. “And right now, she’s thinking that the First Order will lead this galaxy into desperation. She’s thinking we’ll destroy to the point that people will start to fear the loss of their livelihoods, everything that’s familiar and comfortable to them. And when that happens…” He resumes pacing. “They’ll start pouring into the Resistance in droves.”

“But, sir.” A younger general, slightly corpulent with full cheeks, speaks tentatively, “You yourself said the Resistance is no threat to us now. After Crait, they’re just a hopeless pack of fool—”

“ _And I want to keep it that way_ ,” the Supreme Leader cuts him off. “Remember that these fools were once strong enough to destroy Starkiller base. We need to ensure they remain weakened, their ranks meager. And to do that, we must send a message to the galaxy— their lives under the First Order will go on much as they always have, unhindered.”

He stops when he reaches the window. A moment passes.

“Desperate people do desperate things.” He gazes at the port. “The vast majority the galaxy should not feel compelled to join any _Resistance_. If the First Order is to avoid the same fate as the Empire, we must also avoid their mistakes.”

“So…” Hux snivels in a nasally voice. He’s back in his chair now, a hand pressed to his nose. “How _exactly_ are we to deal with the lawlessness on these planets, then?” He turns to the Supreme Leader, boiling with resentment.

“We need to manage the situation in a manner that makes up appear…” Kylo pauses. “Just.” He turns to the table.

“General Kas.”

The square-jawed man sits up at the sound of his name.

“What’s the reputation of the gangs on most of these planets?” Kylo Ren tilts his head. “Are they regarded as a menace? A necessary evil? Protectors of the people?”

The general looks down, considering the question.

“It depends.” He looks up. “But I’d say on the whole, they’re considered a bane. If we were to go in with our troops and sweep them out, we’d most likely be regarded as heroes.”

“Is this opinion based on that of government officials or the majority of the population?” The Supreme Leader challenges.

“Sir.” The younger general interrupts, raising a hand. “If I may be so bold as to suggest something.”

Kylo Ren turns slowly towards the man.

“W-we…” He starts with a slight tremble. “Can have a degree of control over how the population views our actions through propaganda.” He sits up, trying to appear confident. “Before invading the planets to root out the gangs, we could create holos depicting various atrocities they’re said to be responsible for and broadcast them all over the galaxy. Then, our destruction of the gangs will appear righteous.”

The Supreme Leader cocks his head. He steps towards the young general, now shrinking in his seat.

“What’s your name?”

“G-general Ailen, sir.” The man gulps, forcing himself to look into the black mask.

“I like your plan, General Ailen.”

The man relaxes.

“I want you to be in charge of it. Go and create your holos. Make sure everyone sees them. How long will it take for this to be done?”

“Give me two weeks, sir.” He sits up eagerly. “I’ll create the holos in one and in another, the whole galaxy will be up in arms about the horrible gangs plaguing the Outer Rim.”

“Excellent.” The Supreme Leader strides around the table. “General Voigt, tell me, which planets should we prioritize for invasion?”

“Well…” The elderly general uncrosses his arms. “The Salient System is a must. They have more of the Varium we need. Next, I’d say Felucia, though Five Points could be just as important…”

Suddenly, Kylo halts. The general continues answering his question, but Kylo doesn’t hear him. He’s too focused on that warmth creeping from within.

In an instant, he panics.

_No._

_This isn’t right. This can’t be happening now._

The bond doesn’t work like this. It never brings them together unless they’re alone.

Yet the feeling grows, getting stronger.

Now Kylo really starts to panic. He looks wildly around the room, searching for her.

General Voigt stops speaking. All of the generals stare at him now, knitting their eyebrows.

That’s when the realization hits.

“The meeting is adjourned.” Kylo charges to the exit. He presses a panel by the door and strides into the hall without looking back. His Force senses are heightened, alert.

She’s here.

Rey. She’s on _this ship_.

He can sense her presence.

He quickly makes his way to the nearest elevator, a small crew of operators preparing to board. They disperse when they see him approaching, bowing as he glides past.

Kylo enters alone, the door whirring shut behind him. He closes his eyes as the elevator descends, reaching out through the Force, searching for her. By the time the door opens, he knows exactly where to go. 

He charges into a wide hall of the dreadnought. It’s bustling with activity, Stormtroopers marching by in units, technicians scurrying along with arms full of equipment, MSE droids weaving around the crowd.

Kylo turns, striding into a service elevator to the left.

Two technicians preparing to enter stop dead in their tracks, balking. They look at each other, bug-eyed, as if to say, “The Supreme Leader is taking a _service elevator_?”

The door whirs shut and the elevator begins to descend. He glances at the side panel to confirm it’s taking him to the lowermost level of the ship, a place he never goes.

As soon as the door opens, he exits into a massive hanger lined with several rows of wide, angular freighters. Black-clad workers gape at him as he strides by.

None of these people have never seen him in person. They only know his image.

Kylo ignores the stares, the waves of shock rippling through air. He only concentrates on that feeling drawing him forward. He walks swiftly between two lines of freighters, then gradually slows. He halts next to one of them, turning to face it.

This is it. This is the one.

He makes his way to the front of the ship, startling a worker preparing several hoverlifts.

“Open the ship,” he commands curtly.

For a moment, the man does nothing, just stares in wide-eyed stupor. Finally, he reaches for the control attached to his hip with a trembling hand. He presses a button and the loading ramp descends smoothly with a mechanical hum.  

Just as it touches the ground, Kylo steps onto it, striding into the freighter. He pauses at the top, looking around.

The ship is a dull, metallic grey. Everything is grey, even the five long rows of supply crates stretching out ahead.

He turns, heading to the left side.

It’s utterly silent. The only sound is the click of his boots on the perforated floor. He stops once he reaches a long row of compartments lining the wall, both lower and upper compartments, separated by a counter top in between. The lower ones are larger, about four feet tall, large enough for a human to fit inside of them.

Especially a small one…

He strides down the row of compartments, his black-clad form casting a fuzzy reflection on their metallic surface. He walks about halfway, then halts.

He turns his head mechanically, his eyes on the compartment just below. He shifts to face it, kneeling.

For a few seconds, he crouches, unmoving.

He can hear her. He can hear the sound of her breath on the other side of the door, soft and uneven. He senses her emotions, a mixture of exhaustion, fear, and determination.

Finally, Kylo reaches up to unclick his mask, bringing it overhead and placing it on the floor. He waits a few more seconds.

“ _Rey_ ,” he draws out her name. “I know you’re in there.”

He hears her shift inside.

“ _Rey_.” There’s hint of warning in his voice. “Open the door.”

Nothing. It seems she’s trying to be as still as possible.

Exasperated, Kylo reaches for the compartment and slides it open in one swift motion.

Rey sits up, her eyes wide and guarded.

She’s injured. The first thing he notices is a pool of blood at the base of the compartment. It’s coming from her right thigh. She’s tied her jacket around it to impede the flow. She’s wearing a thin, sleeveless undershirt, a blaster wound visible on her left shoulder. Her hair is a tangled mess and her complexion is whiter than usual.

“ _Rey_.” He doesn’t bother to hide his concern. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She gulps, looking down.

“I…” She starts tentatively, not sure where to go next. “I’m here for a visit?” She looks up.

He glares at her.

“This is no time for games.” He glances at her wound. “What are you _really_ doing here?”

She lets out a puff of air, looking up and around as if trying to fabricate a response.

He sighs, pushing into her mind to retrieve the answer himself.

“ _Hey!_ ” She protests. “Stop that!”

“ _Damn it, Rey!_ ” He roars, rearing back. “You tried to steal First Order technology!? _Are you insane!?_ ” He gestures emphatically. “Do you have any idea how well-guarded those facilities are?”

Rey presses her lips together.

“I do now.” She tilts her head.

Kylo groans, burying his eyes in a palm.

“You are a _fool_.” He slicks his hand over his face. “Sneaking into a First Order facility _alone_ —”

“I wasn’t alone,” she insists. “I was with a team of four others. But then…” She looks away. “We got caught, and I needed to be the distraction.”

“You mean you _volunteered_ to be the distraction.”

“And it _worked_ ,” she snaps. “The others got away, and I hid in here. But I didn’t know it was a ship. It was attached to the building; it just looked like part of it. Then I realized what it was…” She bites her lip. “Too late.”

Kylo sighs, shaking his head.

_The recklessness…_

“Listen.” She huffs. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. Just go about your business as usual. I’ll figure out my own way out of here.”

“Rey,” he starts dryly. “Do you have any idea where you are?”

She takes an uneven inhale, shivering a little.

“On a dreadnaught?”

He stares at her, unblinking.

“You’re _lost_.” He hardens his jaw. “You have no _clue_ where you are, and you have no idea how to find your way off a ship like this one.”

“I’ve found my way off a ship like this before.” She juts her chin up. “I’ll be just fine.”

He twitches.

“ _This ship_ ,” he punctuates each word, “is very much whole and functional. It’s not cleaved in two with everyone running around like mad trying to save their own skin. And every person here has been trained to kill intruders on sight. You’ll be shot within the first five minutes of stepping off this freighter.” He glares at her, trying to impress the seriousness of the situation.

“I’ll mind trick someone.” She flits her head. “I’m getting a lot better at that.”

Kylo closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. He opens them, glancing at the wound in her thigh.

“How long have you had that?” He nods to the injury.

She folds her arms and leans against the compartment.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

No answer.

But based on the way she feels, he’d guess she’s been awake for a full twenty-four hours _at least_. And judging by the pool of blood beside her, he’d estimate she has about three hours before she bleeds out.

He clicks his tongue.

“So, let me get this straight.” He leans in. “You’re going to sneak off this freighter, exhausted and badly injured, mind trick your way into the core of the ship, shut down the tractor beam— technology that you’ve never encountered before— then find your way back to a port to steal a ship?”

Rey tightens her arms, hardening. 

“Yeah.” Her eyes fix on his. “Something like that.”

He stares at her a minute, and she stares right back, defiant.

Finally, he turns, scooping his mask from the floor and bringing it overhead to click into place.

Then, before she can react, he reaches in, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of the compartment.

“ _Hey!_ ” She tries to wriggle herself free. “I said I can handle this. Let me go! _Now!_ ”

He ignores her, slipping an arm under her knees, then rising and gripping her firmly.

“ _Let me go_!” She writhes in his arms, trying to escape, but he only grips her more tightly.

It’s easy to keep her from getting away. She’s too exhausted to have much fight left in her.

He strides to the loading ramp, descending swiftly. The young worker who opened the ship gapes as he glides by with Rey in his arms. He continues between the long rows of freighters, eyes straight ahead, focused on his destination.

Rey grows quiet. He feels her become self-conscious, most likely noticing the attention of everyone around them. 

A worker pushing a hoverlift to the service elevator sees them approach and stops dead. He shakes himself out of his stupor just in time to run over and press a panel to open the door.

Kylo strides past without looking down.

He turns just as the door whirs shut. They begin to ascend, the elevator automatically taking them to its highest floor.

Rey’s not fighting at all now. She’s resting her head against his shoulder, eyes closed, gripping folds of black fabric at his chest. She’s trembling, shaken by the situation but also resigned to it, relieved even.

The door to the elevator whirs open, and Kylo steps briskly into the crowded hall of the dreadnaught.

At first, it’s abuzz with noise, filled with the chatter of hundreds of technicians, operators, and officers.

But over the span of half a minute, the hall falls eerily quiet. Units of Stormtroopers marching by halt, running into the backs of their comrades, their heads twisting to the Supreme Leader as he charges by with a young woman in his arms. 

Everyone in the hall stops and stares as he strides forward. He ignores the gaping, the waves of shock ripping through him.

He turns and continues down a hall to the left, the nearest medical bay only a few paces away. The doors to the bay are wide open.

Kylo walks straight in.

A small team of medical professionals turn and jerk back, surprised. They stare wordlessly as he marches to one of the beds and places Rey gently on top of it.

Then he turns to face them.

“Treat her wounds, find her a room near mine, and lock her in it,” he commands in his distorted voice.

He turns to exit before anyone can respond.

Rey and the medical professionals stare at him as he charges away without looking back. 


	14. Lost and Found, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey fights boredom cooped up in a locked room on a First Order dreadnought.

Rey scoots closer to the door, pressing her left ear to it.

Her right leg is stretched out straight in front of her, still aching slightly from her wound, and she’s hugging her left knee into her chest with both arms.

She reaches out with her Force-senses, listening. The foot traffic on this part of the dreadnought seems to be fairly light, but she still hears people pass by every few minutes or so. Many are silent but sometimes they’re talking. Like now. She’s just starting to make out their words…

“Oh no!” the woman’s voice is saying. “Don’t tell me you go there. Really?”

“Yes, really,” another woman responds. “Is that bad?” The first woman scoffs.

“You sad, silly thing. You don’t know anything, do you? Well, don’t you worry. Now that you’re with Unit 1027, you’ll know all the Supremacy II’s secrets. And here’s the first one.” The woman lowers her voice a little. “When the supplies arrive, the best stuff gets sent straight to the top— the generals and their whole staff. Then to the admirals, then to the sciences, then to engineering, and so on and so forth. Do you get it?”

“Yes, of course,” the second woman answers.

“Well,” the first woman continues, “This means the closer the commissary is to the top, the fresher the food will be. That’s why you should always go to the highest commissary you have access to.”

“It makes perfect sense,” the second woman says this like a revelation. “I can’t believe I never thought of it before.”

“And you’ve probably been eating rotten vegetables this whole time…”

Rey rolls her eyes and sighs, pulling away from the door just as the two women begin to walk past it.

Wonderful. Another conversation about food.

When she first started eavesdropping a couple days ago, she was excited about what she might hear, what she might learn. Maybe something useful to the Resistance? But she soon discovered that not only would she be unlikely to hear anything useful, she’d also be unlikely to hear anything interesting. The people on this ship talk about the most mundane things— the increased availability of Gapanga fruit, irregular sleep patterns, interpersonal squabbles, and so and so forth.

They’re not exactly how Rey envisioned members of the First Order. Before now, she’d pictured a vague mass of individuals who were heartless, bloodthirsty, or brainwashed into becoming part of the machine

Now, she realizes that most of them are just people. Just regular people, similar to those she’s grown to know in the Resistance. Their cares, their worries, their pleasures… they’re very much the same. They want to eat well, rest well, and get along with those around them.

Rey sighs and leans back against the wall behind her.

Maybe one day, far into the future, the beings in this galaxy will realize that they’re all ultimately on the same side.

She reflects on this thought for a few minutes, reflects on whether or not there will ever be a time when the galaxy knows true peace, true balance…

Suddenly, she sits up and presses her ear to the door again. Someone else is approaching. Two men, talking to each other in low voices. She reaches out with her Force senses to hear them.

“I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it,” one man is saying.

“It’s true,” another man assures him in a smug voice. “This is what you miss when you go off on a mission.” The first man groans like he’s disappointed.

“How many saw it?” He asks eagerly.

“Practically everyone in sector twelve,” the second man answers. “And before that, he’d gone all the way down to one of the loading decks.”

“The loading decks!?” The first man exclaims incredulously. “Even I’ve never been down there!”

The second man chuckles a little. “Apparently, he plucked her out of one of the freighters and brought her straight to the sector 12 medical bay. A friend of mine in engineering saw the whole thing.”

“So, who is she?” The first man practically cuts him off. “Does anyone know?”

“Well,” the second man begins, lowering his voice again.

But suddenly he stops, making a slight shushing noise as he and his comrade draw nearer to her door. A pair of footsteps pass by in silence. Rey listens as the footsteps get farther and farther away, her ear still pressed to the door, her Force senses heightened. Finally, the second man continues.

“This isn’t confirmed. It’s a just a rumor, but I heard just this morning that she was once a prisoner of ours. In fact, she was there the day Starkiller base was destroyed.”

“Really?” The first man goads in a hushed tone. “How did she escape?”

“Now that I don’t know, but…” The second man’s voice grows too distant for her to hear, even with her Force senses. Rey pulls away from the door and rests back against the wall behind her.

That’s not the first conversation like that she’s overheard. Apparently, she’s the talk of the dreadnought.

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, folding her arms as she slouches against the wall.

It’s been three days and she hasn’t seen him since he dropped her off at the medical bay. She feels his presence on the ship, of course. And he walks by her room several times during the day and always at night when he returns to his own quarters. But he hasn’t spoken with her or even come to see her.  

Though she did have a strange dream about him the first night she was here.

She’d been poked and prodded by the medical team, her wounds treated and wrapped with bacta bandages. Then they’d given her some sort of pain medication. She was completely out of sorts when they transported her here and placed her on the bed. She just lied there, semi-conscious, drifting in and out of a restless sleep.

Somewhere during that time, she dreamed he was in the room, sitting in a chair across from her, just watching. It was almost like he was guarding her. Then he got up to walk slowly towards her. He knelt down just next to the bed and reached out with a gloved hand, stroking her hair back. He gazed at her softly for a few seconds before leaning in to kiss her forehead. His lips lingered on her skin for a moment before he pulled away, standing and turning abruptly to exit the room.

A very strange dream indeed. She has no idea why her sleeping mind would have invented such a ridiculous thing. Part of her wonders…

Rey sighs again, tilting her head to rest against the door. She bites her lip, looking absently outward.

The truth is she’s grateful for what he did. If he’d bother to come see her, she’d tell him that. She was too proud and adrenaline-charged at the time to admit it, but she never would have made it off this ship alive. Not in the state she was in.

So, that’s twice now he’s saved her life. No… three times.

She sighs once more, tightening her arms around herself.

Yes, she’s grateful for what he did. But if he thinks he can keep her locked in this room forever…

She squints her eyes, thinking. Then she sits up abruptly and leans over to inspect the wound in her right thigh. She wraps her fingers around it, feeling the thick bacta bandages under her pants, giving it a little squeeze. She winces slightly. 

It still hurts a bit, but it’s _much_ better. She can walk now, though she’s a little wobbly. Judging by the progress over the past three days, she should be able to walk like normal by this time tomorrow. That’s when she’ll start trying out her escape plans.

It will be tricky. The door to this room only opens once a day when a medical droid comes in to inspect and redress her wounds. Other than that, the door stays firmly shut and locked. It doesn’t even open when a droid comes by to deliver her meals. The trey just slides through a small opening next to the door that’s otherwise sealed shut.  

She can’t mind trick a droid. But she’s worked on fixing enough of them that maybe she can figure out a way to cause a malfunction. She’ll figure something out eventually. She always does…

Suddenly, a warm feeling rises in her core.

He’s coming this way. She can sense him getting closer. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s already passed her room twice this morning and once in the afternoon. She presses her ear to the door again.

Yes, that’s definitely him. It’s not just that she can sense his presence. Even the click of his boots sounds different from everyone else’s. Maybe it’s his stride. It’s very distinct.

To her surprise, she hears his pace slow. Then he halts just in front of her door.

_Shit._

Immediately, she scrambles, backing away with her palms, scooting over to the washing station to have something to help her up from the floor.

She hears him unclick his mask, then start to enter a code on the keypad.

She’s next to it now, pushing up with one hand to grab the edge of it with the other.

The door whirs open.

Immediately, she freezes.

He stands tall in the doorway, his mask tucked in the crook of his arm, staring down at her with knitted eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” He cocks his head.

For a few seconds, she stays perfectly still, staring up at him, considering her answer. Finally, she grips the side of the washing station and begins pulling herself up.

“I’m washing up, _obviously_.” She affects irritation as she says this. He steps forward into the room, leaning over to grip her right arm gently, helping her onto her feet.

“On the floor?” He asks, the corners of his lips teasing upwards.

She looks up at him, opening her mouth to say something but then stops. He continues to look down at her, a hint of a smile in his black eyes. Finally, she exhales heavily, dropping her shoulders and looking away.

“I was listening to people at the door,” she admits begrudgingly, turning to walk to the bed with a slight wobble. “I’m bored out of my mind in here.” She plops onto the mattress, pulling herself back onto it, her feet dangling just above the floor.

“Hear anything interesting?” He asks as he presses a panel, the door instantly whirring shut.

“ _No_.” She grunts, shaking her head. “The people on this ship are profoundly boring. All they talk about is food, sleep, and gossip. Though, I think I heard General Hux blathering on about the military merit of blockades at some point.”

She sees him roll his eyes at this as he walks over to place his mask on the desk. He takes a seat on the chair next to it, facing her. He leans over to rest his forearms on his knees, looking down and not at her.

A minute of silence passes. Rey shifts on the bed, folding her left leg up to rest fully on top of it. She sits up straight, laying her hands lightly on her lap.   

“How’s your leg?” He abruptly breaks the silence.

“It’s good,” she says, glancing at him with a quick nod. “The bacta bandages here are much better than ours. I expect I’ll be good as new by this time tomorrow.” He nods back at her then looks down again. The room falls quiet. It’s uncomfortable quiet, for both of them. She senses that he’s unsettled, though she can’t quite pinpoint how.

Another minute passes in silence.  

Rey sighs and slouches a bit. She takes a deep breath, then looks up at him.

“Thank you,” she says softly. His eyes snap up to meet hers. “Thank you for…” Her voice trails off, searching for the right words. “Keeping me alive,” she says finally.

At this he twitches his jaw, his gaze locked on hers with a strange mixture of tenderness and exasperation. He stares at her for a moment before sitting back abruptly and pushing out a frustrated exhale. He crosses his arms, eyes now intense with seriousness.

“You realize it was sheer, dumb luck that you ended up here and not on a number of other dreadnaughts, don’t you?” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis. She looks away, scooting forward and shifting her left leg next to her right again, both legs now dangling over the bed.

“You would have been ingloriously executed by a supply worker.” He raises his voice as he reprimands her.  “It’s miracle you made it out of the facility alive in the first place.” She sits up, jaw hardening, tensing her shoulders and clasping her hands in her lap.

“Tell me, Rey.” His tone darkens as she hears him shift in his chair, his voice seeming to grow nearer. She looks up and is met by piercing black eyes. “What about a few scraps of technology is worth risking your life for?”

Rey looks back at him, guarded at first, but she soon feels a wave of resolve rise in her chest. She straightens tall on the bed, bringing her shoulders back and down.

“Poe says wars can be won or lost because of differences in technology.” She stares at him confidently. “He said we needed to understand yours in order to beat you.”

“Who the hell is _Poe_?” Ben spits out the name, leaning forward with a strange kind of fire in his eyes.

“A friend,” She answers, shaking her head dismissively.

“And you let this _friend_ talk you into this idiocy.” His tone is biting.

“He made some good points,” Rey shoots back, cocking her head in self-assurance. “Like that we need to know how well our receptors pick up the approach of your ships.” She leans forward a little, eyes intent on his. “Or if our scanners will pick up your trackers.” At this, he flinches subtly.

Rey takes in a sharp breath, narrowing her eyes at him in a cutting glare.

She’s scanned for a tracker on the Falcon for what feels _a thousand times_ and found nothing. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. And after the monsoon on Dorajan, she can’t kick the feeling that something _is_ there…

It’s not because of how he reacted when she asked how he knew what planet she was on. It’s because of the way he smoothly avoided answering her question when she asked him directly. She’s getting to know him. And that’s exactly the kind of thing he does when she’s getting too close to something he doesn’t want her to see.

“Did you put a tracker on the Falcon?” She asks him abruptly.  

He sits up, shaking his head briskly in annoyance, put off by the question. “Rey, don’t try to change the subject,” he warns. “Nothing detracts from the fact that you endangered your life for some _fool_ ’s suicide mission.”

“ _No_ , not this time Ben,” she intones darkly, suddenly pushing up from the bed and taking a few steps towards him. “This time you’re going to answer my question.” He rolls his eyes and stands, starting to walk towards her.

“Rey, sit dow—”

“ _Don’t_ tell me what to do,” she cuts him off, raising her voice and stepping forward, eyes boring into his coldly. “Just answer the question. _Did you_ put a tracker on my ship?” He looks away from her, crossing his arms, face twisted in irritation.

“You’re just deflecting,” he accuses, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

“Well, I learned it from the best,” she retorts without skipping a beat. He glances back at her, twitching his jaw. “Besides,” she continues, “the truth is I volunteered for the mission because I wanted to know if there was a tracker on my ship once and for all. So, you can either tell me now, or I can sneak into another First Order facility.” She takes another step forward, glaring up at him with absolute resolve. He stares back, his eyes guarded.

“ _Did you put a tracker on my ship_?” She enunciates each word.

He doesn’t answer her. Not immediately. He just stares down with those expressive black eyes, seeming to fight an inner battle with himself. She keeps her eyes locked on his. She’s not letting him get away this time…

Suddenly, he turns and walks a few steps towards the door. He tenses his shoulders, staring at the wall, his back to her.

“Yes,” he finally answers in a low voice.

Rey immediately sucks in a breath, at once relieved that he admitted the truth and _furious_ that he did such a thing in the first place.

“I can’t _believe_ you,” she spits at him angrily. She pushes out an exhale, feeling the heat grow inside her, absolutely fuming.

But her fury quickly grows into fear as she fully registers the consequences of this. Everywhere she’s been… all of the bases, the recruiter rescues, _everywhere_. She brings a palm to her head, suddenly feeling light and unbalanced.

“I’ve put all my friends in danger,” she whispers in terror, wobbling a bit.

“Rey.” Ben turns and steps towards her, his tone gentle. “Your friends aren’t in danger. Sit down.” He reaches out for her shoulder but she jerks away from him, shooting him a defiant glare. Something flashes across his eyes. Hurt, maybe. He gazes down softly for a few moments and she feels some of her anger melt away in spite of herself.

Suddenly, she turns away from him, retaking her seat on the bed. To her surprise, he follows and takes a seat next to her.

She crosses her arms tightly across her chest, staring intently downward, her jaw set and her mind full of worry.

“Rey,” Ben intones quietly beside her. “I meant it when I said I don’t need a tracker to know what the Resistance is up to. On any given planet, there are hundreds of First Order spies, thousands in some, in places you wouldn’t believe.” His tone darkens ominously. “If I wanted to, I could blast all of your new bases into ash and rubble.”

“Then, why aren’t you?” She snaps her head up, resentment and anger resurging in her chest. He squints his eyes knowingly, a smug expression registering on his face as he leans towards her.

“Because I don’t _need_ to,” he answers forcefully. “Those bases are and will continue to be sad, pathetic fragments of a lost cause. I don’t need to destroy the Resistance bases because precious few in this galaxy will feel compelled to join any _Resistance_ under my order.”

“You’re _wrong_ ,” she shoots back emphatically, uncrossing her arms. “Our numbers have been growing.” She juts her chin up proudly.

“Have they now?” He cocks his head with a mocking expression. “Are they anywhere close to what they were before?” She glares at him but doesn’t respond.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, pulling away from her and straightening his back. “And they never will be again. Not under my rule. Because I will bring _true order_ to the galaxy, the likes of which it’s never seen before. People will not only live their lives unhindered but improved. Better trade, less lawlessness—”

“And you think people are just going to forget how that order was achieved? How it’s maintained?” Rey gapes at him incredulously. “You think they’ll just forget the destruction of the New Republic, the entire Hosnian System?” He looks away from her, his eyes growing distant. She watches him as he appears lost in thought for a few moments. Then, he abruptly stands and takes a few steps away.

“Years from now,” he begins quietly, his back to her, “people will look back and see that the end justified the means. That destruction was worth it to create a new order, a better order.”

“You can’t possibly believe that,” Rey responds, shaking her head in disbelief. She regards him intently, but he doesn’t turn around. She focuses on him, on his feelings… and her heart drops into her stomach when the realization hits her.

He believes every word that he’s saying. _Firmly_.

Rey gulps, trying to calm the nervousness gathering at her core and beginning to spread out through her body. She looks downward, trying to focus on her breathing, inhales and exhales. A minute passes in silence.

“How do I get it off?” She asks suddenly. Ben twists around to face her, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“ _The tracker_ ,” she practically hisses at him. He visibly takes a deep breath, a flash of something in his eyes... shame, perhaps? Then he turns to walk towards the desk.

“I’ll send you a device tonight,” he says as he picks up his mask. “It will only work once. Use it on the ship and it will send out a signal that destroys the tracker.”

“And how do I know that you’re telling me the truth?” She probes, rising to her feet. He whips around with his mask in hand and takes several brisk steps forward until he’s directly in front of her, eyes boring down into hers.

“Why don’t you come into my mind and see for yourself?” He squints at her in challenge. She looks up at him, into those dark black pools seeming to beckon her to call his bluff.

So, she does. She bows her head and closes her eyes, pushing into his mind. She doesn’t push far, just into the edge of his consciousness. Far enough to see that he is indeed telling the truth.

She opens her eyes and looks up to meet his gaze. He looks down at her solemnly and she gives him a terse nod of acknowledgement. They stare at one another wordlessly for a few seconds. Then he turns and walks back towards the desk.

“You’re leaving tonight,” he says quietly. Rey widens her eyes in surprise. “That’s what I came here to tell you. A medical droid will come by in three hours to put you to sleep and bring you to the transport.”

“Put me to sleep?” She protests, at a loss as to why this would be necessary.

“It’s a medical transport, Rey,” he says dryly, turning around to face her again, his mask still in hand. “All of the patients are put to sleep for travel. And besides, I don’t want you getting into any more trouble with First Order property.” He says this bit snidely, a hint of admonishment in his voice. Rey rolls her eyes.

“Where is it taking me?” She asks with a sigh.

“To Cloud City in Bespin,” he answers evenly. “When you arrive, you’ll be provided with a commlink, water, and several portions.” At this, she nods her head, looking down, already thinking about Poe and the others. They probably think she’s dead. She’s very anxious to let them know otherwise...  

Suddenly, she hears him walk towards the door.

“Ben,” she says abruptly, looking up. He turns his body half towards her. “Why are you letting me go?” She asks with genuine curiosity, stepping forward. “I’m a criminal by your standards, am I not? Why not keep me prisoner?” She looks up at him expectantly.

He grunts softly and walks towards her, not stopping until he’s directly in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers. He regards her for a moment, studying her. Then he leans down, bringing his face closer, stopping only inches from her own. She feels her heartbeat quicken and a slight flutter in her chest as he gazes deeply into her.

“If you ever stay on this ship,” he begins in a low voice, “it will be on your own free will.” His eyes linger on hers with a strange sort of glimmer, as if he knows something she doesn’t.

Despite her guardedness, she feels that magnetic pull again, the one she always feels when he looks at her like he’s doing now, dark eyes full of yearning. She gets lost again, lost in those deep black wells until he slowly pulls away, straightening and squaring his shoulders. He regards her for a few more seconds before turning around to walk away.

He pulls his mask on overhead, then enters a code to open the door. He strides out into the hall without looking back, the door whirring shut behind him. She hears the click of his boots, that distinctive stride, grow increasingly more distant.  

Rey stands in the middle of the room for a minute. At first, she feels a bit numbed. But soon an overwhelming mixture of emotions descends upon her, her mind growing busy with the noise of her own thoughts.

She turns to make her way to the bed and sinks slowly down on the mattress, suddenly overcome with a strange wave of exhaustion. She brings her legs up and lies back on top of it, curling over to one side. She stares out intently at the wall, not really seeing it, lost in a deep reflection.

She sighs heavily.

Today was a wakeup call.  One that she very much needed.

Since she figured out the purpose of the bond, she’s grown increasingly sure of the inevitable. The more she thinks about it, the clearer it becomes. _She was_ _right_. Ben Solo _will_ turn.

But today she was reminded that this won’t be easy. _At all_. It’s going to be a process alright… a painful one. Because Kylo Ren is still very much alive in him.

It’s become too easy to forget this… the bond mostly shows her Ben Solo, the man who’s broken and lonely and desperate to change his life.

But that same man still _chooses_ to be Kylo Ren. Every day.

Rey sighs again and rolls over to her other side, slipping an arm under the pillow.

Hearing him talk about the Resistance… About bringing “true order” to the galaxy…

It reminded her of what she’s up against, of who Kylo Ren is. A man driven by an almost manic compulsion to control everyone and everything around him. A man who wants to dominate and humiliate his enemies. A man who rationalizes the destruction of innocent people as “necessary” to achieve his ends, fooling himself into thinking that he’s acting in the greater good of the galaxy when in truth, it’s only about himself. About the pursuit of power.

But… he’s not a lost cause.

She knows that, _feels_ that. She’s seen his mind, seen his heart. She knows the man he’s capable of becoming. The real question is how to tip the scales, how to inspire him to want to be more Ben Solo than Kylo Ren…

There have at least been _some_ signs of encouragement. Like when she heard that he ordered the rebuilding of the Temple of Ashaii on Lonera. “Build things,” she’d told him. And that’s exactly what he did. Just like Ben Solo would, the part of him more interested in creation than destruction.

And then there’s today when he admitted to putting a tracker on her ship. Part of her is still _furious_ at him. But another part of her is shocked that he told the truth. It’s his instinct to conceal things, to deceive. Today he fought that instinct. And _won_.

And then there’s the way he behaves towards her. This, more than anything, makes her feel Ben Solo will win out in the end. Killing Snoke instead of her… rescuing her from hypothermia… causing a scandal on the dreadnought to get her immediate medical attention. And it’s not even the big things. It’s the small things too. Letting her into his mind to see how he felt about his father… teaching her not to be afraid of lightening in a storm… helping her find her crystal.

These are the things that remind her to be patient, to allow the bond to do its work, to seek out more opportunities to remind him of _who he really is_.

Rey sighs and shifts on the bed again, closing her eyes and burying her face into her pillow.

She continues to reflect upon these things until she begins to drift, slowly, imperceptibly, into a deep and dreamless sleep.

****

The external observation portal is deadly quiet except for the sound of the officer’s boots as they click against the smooth, black floor. The man stops just a few feet behind the Supreme Leader, who stands with his back to him, gazing out into the expanse of space, nothing but the dull twinkle of stars to interrupt the blackness.

Kylo Ren does not turn around when the man stops. He simply continues to stare ahead, hands clasped lightly behind his back, shoulders relaxed. He hears the officer clear his throat behind him.

“Sir,” he begins tentatively, “I’ve come to deliver the report you requested on patient 8097.”

“Go on,” the distorted voice commands evenly. The officer takes a breath, straightening to begin.

“She’s been put to sleep and placed on a medical transport to Bespin. When she arrives, she’ll be provided with everything according to your specifications, including a disabling device.” The man pauses for a moment.

“And what about the procedure?” Kylo Ren turns his head slightly to the side. The officer gulps.

“It’s done, sir,” the man nods, “After she was put to sleep, a nano-tracker was injected between her right shoulder and her neck. Bacta gel was applied immediately after, so there will be no mark. She will be entirely unaware of its presence.”

Kylo Ren turns his head back forward. “Review the functions and programmed procedures,” he commands.

“Yes, of course,” the man replies. “It will track her location and measure her vitals at all times. If her vital signs drop to code yellow, the nearest medical team will be immediately dispatched to her location. If they drop to code orange, the medical team will intervene and provide treatment. Any Stormtrooper or First Order personnel equipped with a scanner will detect her presence during combat and be alerted to her status on the restricted list, no kill/no injury—”

“I want the standard penalty for violating this order to be amended.” Kylo Ren suddenly interrupts.

“Yes, what’s the amendment?” The officer asks expectantly.

“If a single trooper violates this order, the entire division will be disposed of.” The officer can’t stop himself from gaping, a slight croak eeking from his throat.

“Th- the whole division, sir?” He stutters a little, unable to conceal his shock.

“You heard me,” the Supreme Leader says coldly without turning around. “ _Do it_.”

“Yes, immediately, sir.” The officer turns to briskly exit the room.

Kylo Ren continues to stare forward out into the endless expanse of space. As he does, he fights a gnawing feeling in his gut, a vague sense of dread… and guilt.

But he clenches his fists and squelches the feeling, burying it under a firm resolve.

She left him _no choice_.

If she’s going to insist on putting herself in the line of fire for a fool’s mission, the least he can do is make sure she doesn’t die doing it.

And it’s not just her activities with the Resistance either. It’s _her_. She’s reckless. Too reckless with her own life. He thinks about finding her wet and near freezing to death… all because she ran off to help a boy who she _knew_ could be manipulating her.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, growing more certain that he’s done the right thing.

If she refuses to take proper care of herself, then _someone_ has to. She can’t die. He can’t let her. It would be irresponsible of him to let her die. She’s too important. To the galaxy. To the First Order.

To him.

He needs her. _Needs_ her. She’s destined to be his partner, to rule by his side. He can’t let her throw her future away for nothing…

But even as he thinks these things, that vague sense of dread reemerges in his gut… an unnamed fear too deep and too terrible for him to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU DO NOT WANT GENERAL SPOILERS.
> 
> But for those who want to know, I thought I’d share the general outline for this story and how long it will take to complete. 
> 
> When I realized that these oneshots were turning into a story, I decided to do something I’d been wanting to do after I finished my first story, which is use the Force bond as a means to take Rey and Kylo/Ben full circle through a relationship. There’s the part where they fall in love, the part where they begin a relationship, the part where they run into some very rocky road, and finally, the part where they make up. The idea is to explore how the experience of being in a relationship can be an agent of growth and change. That’s why I’m taking this slow, focusing more on the journey than the destination.
> 
> The estimated length of story is fifty chapters. This does mean we have a ways to go, so I hope you can be patient. The goal is to finish the story around the time episode 9 is released. 
> 
> For those willing to see this thing to the end, thank you. I know this story is full of mistakes but you guys have been so gracious, helping me stay positive instead of hyper-focusing on everything I do wrong. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. This is the kind of hobby that can feel like work sometimes but you help keep it fun!
> 
> You have my eternal gratitude!


	15. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey waits in Cloud City for the Resistance to pick her up after her misadventure. While she waits, she gets the opportunity to learn from the best.

The old man sits back in his chair, examining the cards in his hand coolly. He looks relaxed, bored even, his lids lazily drifting halfway over his eyes. He juts his chin up slightly.

“I think…” he begins and stops deliberately, mulling over his next words. Suddenly, he leans forward, his eyes bright with mischief. “I’m gonna raise,” he finally finishes, taking four chips from his stack to the right and throwing them casually to the center of the table with a sly smile.

Rey shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. She attempts to maintain a neutral expression as she reaches over to her own stack of chips to the left.

“I’ll see your raise,” she says as her fingertips slide down a column of chips, “and I’ll raise you four more.” She gingerly lifts the entire column and releases it into the pot.

The old man tsks his tongue as he sets his cards face down on the table, then reaches over for four more of his own chips. “Overconfidence is the amateur’s bane.” He shakes his head, casting a glance at Rey with a teasing twinkle in his eye. She tries not to smile at this, keeping her expression neutral as she sits up straight in her chair.

“Ok, time to call,” she announces, bringing her shoulders back and down.

“Not so fast now, missy,” the old man warns, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “I haven’t had my turn to trade yet. You’re looking too eager. Trust me— You _never_ want to look too eager when playing this game.” He dips his chin and raises his eyebrows.

“Well, excuse me.” Rey sets her cards on the table, gazing back at the man evenly. “I just assumed that if you were confident enough in your hand to raise, then you wouldn’t need to trade any cards.” She squints her eyes as if beckoning him to challenge this. The man stares at her neutrally, his face a blank. Rey does her best to emulate this, staring wordlessly back at him. A few seconds pass in silence.

“Right you are,” he finally admits, sitting back in his chair. “Show what you’ve got, Jedi girl.” That teasing twinkle returns to his eyes as he folds his arms and nods towards Rey.

“You do know I’m not a Jedi, right?” She can’t stop her lips from turning upwards as she reaches for her cards.

“My dear, that’s how Leia described you when she asked that I look after you and so that is what you are.” Lando Calrissian winks from across the table, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

“Well then, it sure is easy to become a Jedi these days,” she says wryly as she turns over her cards. Lando sits up to peer over the table at her hand. He immediately scoffs and shakes his head.

“You killed me,” he announces ruefully, turning over his own cards to reveal a measly total of nine. “You have the best beginner’s luck of anyone I’ve ever seen. And trust me when I tell you,” he leans forward and raises a knowing eyebrow, “I’ve seen a lot of Sabacc players in my time.”

“ _Well_ ,” Rey draws out the word as she casts her eyes downward, fiddling with her hands in her lap. She looks up at Lando with the slightest flash of shame. “I’m Force-sensitive so I felt you were bluffing.” She scrunches her face a bit. Lando lets out a good-natured laugh as he stands up from his chair.

“But the lady admits her advantage,” he says playfully, pointing his right index finger up to the ceiling. He laughs again as he turns to walk away, somehow managing a swagger despite the unsteadiness of his gait, his cape rippling softly at his back. “And she claims she’s not a Jedi,” he mutters to himself.

“Being Force-sensitive and being a Jedi aren’t the same thing, you know,” Rey calls out after him. He stands next to an overhead compartment now, rummaging for something.

“I wouldn’t know about such things,” he replies, closing the compartment. He begins to walk back with another deck of cards in his hand. “I’m only a humble mining operator.”

“ _Only a mining operator_ ,” Rey repeats incredulously. “The great Lando Calrissian? Hero of the Rebellion? The man who fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star at the Battle of Endor? The greatest gambler in the galaxy?” Lando chuckles as he retakes his seat across from her.

“Greatest gambler in the galaxy, huh?” He lets out an amused grunt. “People aren’t still saying that, are they?” He asks absently, his focus on the new deck of cards in his hands. Rey tilts her head and looks at the man, this legend who she’s heard so much about, with a little wonder in her eyes.

“You know…” she starts slowly, “I must say, based on your reputation, I didn’t expect you to be so humble.” At this, Lando laughs softly, his attention now on gathering the cards they just played with into a neat stack.  

“Well, age has a way of changing a man.” There’s a heaviness to this response. For a moment his eyes seem distant, but the look passes quickly. He glances up to Rey with a wink. “ _Just a little_.” She grins broadly as he reaches over the table with an open palm, gesturing for her cards. She hands them over and he adds them to the stack, then continues to clear the table, sweeping the center pile of chips to the side as she looks on curiously.

“Are we done playing?” She inquires, a bit confused. “I didn’t scare you off, did I?”

“Oh no,” he assures her confidently. “But I’m an old man, I’m getting tired, and if tonight is truly your last in Cloud City…?” He looks up at her with a question in his eyes. She scrunches her face like she’s giving bad news and nods.

“Chewie’s coming to pick me up tomorrow morning.”

 Lando hangs his head in feigned disappointment, though Rey senses its partially sincere.

“Then I can’t go to bed before I leave you with a parting gift.” He places the new deck of cards at the center of the table and raises his right hand with a debonair flair.  

“A new game?” Rey scoots forward in her chair.

“No,” he answers with a sharp turn of the head. “What I’m about to show you is no game.” He rests a forearm on the table and leans forward with a mysterious glimmer. “No, this particular set of Sabacc cards,” he taps them twice lightly, “can do much more than win you a new ship. No, these cards,” he lowers his voice, “can reveal your fate.” Suddenly, his face falls deadly serious.

Rey narrows her eyes and turns her head slightly, trying to sense whether or not he’s joking.

“Ah, I see you aren’t a believer in the art of fortune-telling.” He raises an eyebrow, inviting her to confirm this.

“Well,” she begins tentatively, taking in a breath. “I don’t know anything about it. And…” Her voice trails off. She looks down for a few seconds, lost in thought.

“I’m not sure I believe in fate,” she finishes finally, looking up at Lando. He scoffs loudly, his head jerking back in surprise.

“The Jedi girl doesn’t believe in fate!?” He exclaims in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you believe in a Force that binds all life together but not in the idea that this same Force has a plan for you, written in the stars?” Rey parts her lips as if to say something but stops. She furrows her eyebrows a bit, looking down again, struck by the question. She considers this thoughtfully for several seconds, at a loss for how to answer.

“No matter,” Lando breaks the silence, waving a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to believe in fate for fate to believe in you.” In one swift motion, he sweeps a hand over the cards to array them in a straight line across the table. Then he leans forward, his eyes fixed on Rey with a knowing glimmer.

 “Pick one,” he commands softly, nodding his head to the cards.

Rey stares back for a moment, a bit guarded. But she soon shrugs and reaches forward. She figures there’s no harm in humoring her gracious host. Her hand hovers over the array of cards stretching out in front of her, eventually stopping to gently rest an index finger on one to the right.

“The first card you choose,” Lando begins as she slides the card from the rest of the deck, “represents you.” She withdraws her hand and looks up at him, unsure what to do next. He leans over and turns the card she chose to face up.

“Aaah,” he intones brightly, looking impressed. “The Universe,” he declares with an air of triumph. “Of course, you would be the Universe.” Rey sits up in her chair, excited in spite of herself.

“What does it mean?” She asks eagerly.

“The Universe is infinite opportunity,” he tells her, gesturing broadly with his arm. “It means that whatever you want to do, you will do it.”

“Hm.” Rey tilts her head, pleased with this result though doubtful that it really means anything. Lando nods towards the cards again.

“Pick another.”

Rey reaches out once more, this time resting her index finger on a card at the left side of the deck. She pulls it out from the others then withdraws her hand, looking up to Lando expectantly.

“The next card you choose,” he says as he reaches out, “represents your enemy.” He flips the card over. When he sees it, he raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue.  

“What?” Rey tries to conceal a hint of alarm.   

“The Satellite,” he begins in a dark tone, “means deceit or betrayal.” His eyes drift up to hers. “From someone close to you.” At this, she feels an uneasiness grow in her belly. She lets out a slow exhale, staring down at the card.

“One more.” Her head snaps up at the sound of Lando’s voice. He nods to the cards again. She reaches out to the center, touching a few cards briefly before settling on one. She pulls it out from the deck slowly.  

“The last card,” he says as she does this, “represents the outcome of your battle with the enemy.” She looks up and is greeted by solemn eyes. “You turn it this time.” He tells her softly. Rey takes a deep breath then reaches out to turn the card face up, at once nervous and amused with herself for taking this so seriously.  

“It’s a star,” she announces, looking up to Lando, eager for his interpretation. He balks, surprised by this result.

“The Star,” he begins, sitting up, “represents the coming together of opposing forces.” He folds his arms across his chest. “It’s also thought to represent love.” Rey immediately knits her eyebrows in confusion.

“Well, that’s a strange outcome.” She gazes down at the card, unsure of what to make of this. Lando grunts softly.

“I’ve seen far stranger outcomes,” he says in a faraway voice. “And life has a way of surprising you, of defying expectation in the weirdest and most wonderful of ways.” Rey looks up to see Lando’s head tilted far back as he gazes off distantly into nothing. She senses he’s remembering something from long ago… Suddenly, he shakes his head briskly, returning to the present moment. He looks up to Rey with a smile.

“These cards,” he rests a hand on those arrayed in a straight line before him, “are yours.” Rey’s eyes widen immediately.

Lando waves a hand, stopping her protest before it begins.

“These are my cards to give to whom I wish,” he declares in decisive tone. “And I wish to give them to you.” He leans forward with a warm smile and Rey looks down for a moment, feeling a bit self-conscious but also touched by his generosity.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, looking up at him with gratitude.

“My dear, you’re simply too good of a Sabacc player not to have your own deck,” he says, placing his palms on the table and pushing up to stand. “Now I want you to take these cards…” He leans over to tap them lightly. “And take some poor sucker for all he’s worth,” he finishes with mock ferociousness, giving her a wink. He picks up the other deck, then begins making his way to the elevator. Rey starts to organize and stack the chips at the table.

“Good night, my dear,” she hears Lando call out to her. “But not goodbye. Because I must see you off properly tomorrow morning. And I must say hello to a cherished old friend.”

“I’m sure Chewie will be glad for it.” Rey stops organizing for a moment and looks up with a smile. Lando stands next to the elevator now, the door opening swiftly.

“I was referring to the Falcon, but I’ll be happy to see that old carpet too,” he deadpans before turning to enter it. Rey stifles a laugh, looking down. She hears a door whir shut, then the elevator ascending, sweeping him up to his own quarters above. She shakes her head and smiles to herself as continues her work organizing the chips into even piles.

After she finishes, she gathers the cards arrayed across the table into a neat stack. She reaches for the Star and the Satellite cards and joins them with the others. She pauses for a moment when she takes the Universe card, gazing down at it thoughtfully.

After a minute, she places it face up in front of her, folding her forearms on the table and hunching her shoulders. She continues to stare intently at the card as if it has some deep, important secret to share with her. As she does, she thinks about what Lando showed her with the cards… She thinks about fate…

Rey bites her lip, feeling herself churn with a familiar emotion. She _wants_ to believe in this idea. She wants to believe she has a purpose, that she’s part of a plan that she’s just too small to see… but wanting something doesn’t make it true.

She drops her shoulders and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Before she lets it out, she feels a warmth begin to rise at her core, one she recognizes immediately.

For a second, she freezes.

But she soon relaxes, slowly letting out her breath and focusing on that rising warmth, on his presence drawing nearer. Her heartbeat quickens a little in anticipation. Otherwise, she feels calm, accepting of the inevitable.

She’s not fighting the bond anymore. She’s trying her best not to get angry or annoyed when it brings them together. Instead, she needs to heighten her senses, her awareness of the situation, of herself. What is it about _right now_? This moment? What is it that he needs to see?

She bows her head, keeping her eyes closed.

Then she feels him next to her. She waits a few seconds before opening her eyes and looking up, shifting in her chair towards him.

He stands tall, arms at his sides, facing the elevator. He looks up and around the room, intrigued by her surroundings. She senses that he’s confused by them.

She can understand why. The small apartment Lando provided is lavish, crisp white surfaces, outfitted with obviously expensive furniture and appliances. It’s accented by art on the walls, a glimmering chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling, and a large window overlooking the city. He’s used to seeing her grimy and dripping wet outside or in a dinky, junk-filled room. She’s never been in a place like this.

He continues to look around, his eyebrows knitted, trying to make sense of the scene, why she would be here. Finally, he turns towards her, looking down softly, his eyes lingering on her before they drift to the table. The moment he catches sight of the chips and cards, recognition registers on his face, finally putting two and two together. He raises his eyebrows, then looks down at her with a wry expression.

“You’re with Lando, aren’t you?” He says this more like a statement. She nods wordlessly.

“You disapprove?” She asks, titling her face up towards his.

“Not at all.” He turns his head sharply. “There’s no safer place for you to be in Cloud City. Though…” He purses his lips as his voice trails off, his eyes tinged with wariness. “You should know the man has a very loose relationship with the truth,” he warns, beginning to walk around the table.

“Some would say he has a gift for embellishment,” Rey responds. He grunts as he picks up the deck of cards to examine them but doesn’t say anything. He thumbs through the cards with casual interest then places them back.

“At least he’s teaching you how play a _real_ game.” He looks at her with a slight smirk. She fights the urge to roll her eyes, instead leaning forward with a piercing gaze and resting her forearms on the table.

“Apparently, I’m very good,” she informs him confidently. She squints her eyes in challenge, the corners of her lips turning up slightly. He immediately catches her meaning, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, considering whether or not to take her up on her unspoken invitation. After a few seconds he looks away, shaking his head, more to himself than to her. She sits back in her chair and lets out a sigh.

“I forgot,” she says absently, folding her hands in her lap. “You don’t play games.” She shrugs her shoulders, looking down. “Just as well. You probably don’t even remember how to play anyway. It would be an unfair match.” She sighs again, relaxing back in her seat nonchalantly.

In an instant, she hears him pull out a chair and take a seat directly across from her. He grabs the deck of cards and begin to shuffle them. She looks up to see him expertly split the deck then shuffle it back together again like he’s showing off. It takes every inch of willpower she has not to laugh at this.

He is just _too_ easy. The slightest little ding to his pride and he completely caves. She needs to remember this. It could be very useful one day…

He reaches over to the stack of chips but Rey sits up, holding out a halting hand.

“No, let’s not play with chips,” she tells him, leaning forward. “I just got finished organizing them.” He shakes his head dismissively.  

“Rey, I’m sure Lando has a droid that’s sole purpose is to organize cards and chips.” He pulls a few stacks towards him. “Besides, betting’s half the fun of Sabacc. If there’s no betting, there’s no bluffing.”

“But there’s no point in bluffing for us,” she protests as he picks up the deck of cards again. “We can sense one another’s emotions. It won’t take one round before we learn to read the other’s bluff.” At this, he stops cold, looking down and pursing his lips thoughtfully. He’s processing what she said, trying to figure out a way around it.

“How about this.” She rests her forearms on the table as he glances up at her. “Let’s skip betting and play three rounds, then call. And instead of winning chips, the one with the better hand wins the opportunity to ask the other a question. And the other has to answer _honestly_.” She raises her eyebrows, leaning forward. Ben looks back at her, black eyes guarded, mulling over these amendments to the game.

“What do you say?” She asks in a good-natured tone, tilting her head playfully. He stares at her with a neutral expression but she feels him softening. After a few seconds, he shrugs his shoulders in assent.

“Fine.” He looks down at the deck in his hand. “Besides, it’ll go faster that way.” He deals a couple of cards, then slides them smoothly across the table towards her. She takes them with a slight frown.

“I see you’ve assigned yourself the role of dealer.” She flips the cards over to take a look at them. A five and a three. Not a great place to start.

“What? Are you worried I’m going to cheat?” There’s a bite to his tone. “If anyone has to worry about that it’s me, considering your teacher.” He raises an accusing eyebrow then takes a look at his own cards. He doesn’t visibly react, but she can feel that he’s immensely pleased with his hand.

“Lando may have taught me a couple of ways to work the odds in my favor,” she admits, placing the five card down on the table and sliding it towards Ben to trade. He grunts as he takes the card and gives her another from the top of the deck.

“Like hiding cards up your sleeve?” He asks mockingly.

“No,” she says, reaching for the card and bringing it up to join the other. A four. Not very useful. She notices that Ben didn’t trade any of his own cards. “More like simply understanding the deck,” she continues, “being very observant and using logic to better calculate the risks.” She takes the dice and rolls them in her palm for a moment before tossing them lightly across the table. A two and a four.

“Card counting.” He says this disapprovingly. “Don’t you _dare_ try that in a casino,” he warns her. “Not unless you want to lose a limb.” She rolls her eyes as she places the four card face down on the table and slides it towards him to trade.

“Lando taught me how to be discreet about it,” she informs him with an air of annoyance. He shakes his head as he takes the card then gives her another from the top of the deck.

“There is no being discreet in a high rolling casino. They’re very good at protecting their assets. I wouldn’t put that to the test if I were you.” He looks over at her, black eyes deadly serious. She ignores him, picking up her new card and looking down at it. A two. Even worse than a four.

“It’s not like I plan on doing any gambling anytime soon,” she tells him irritably, reaching over to grab the dice. She starts to roll them but stops suddenly, looking up to Ben. “Have you traded yet?” He stares back at her with a smug expression.

“I don’t need to,” he informs her evenly.

He must have a _very_ good hand.

She narrows her eyes at him, jostling the dice casually in her palm. “You know,” she begins, titling her head, “if I roll doubles, you’ll lose that hand and have to draw another.” She senses the slightest twinge of alarm in him as she tosses the dice across the table. A five and a three.

“You got lucky,” she tells him, sweeping up the dice. “But the question is…” She pauses, starting to shake them again. “Will you be lucky twice?” She looks over at him teasingly.

“You do realize the odds are in my favor,” he informs her, his tone impassive but a smile in his eyes.

“Yes, but I’ve found that in this game, things have a strange tendency to go my way.” Rey gives him a sly look, preparing to release the dice.

“You’re sure you don’t want to trade first?” He interrupts her.  

“Oh. Right.” She drops her shoulders. At this point, she’s just holding out hope that she’ll roll doubles and cause him to lose his hand. “Give me a card.” She commands tersely, placing the dice back on the table.

No harm in adding a card. With only a two and three, it’s impossible for her to exceed twenty-three anyway.  

He takes a card from the top of the deck and slides it over to her. She picks it up to add it to her other cards. The moment she sees it, a rush of excitement runs through her. She tries to calm herself quickly, glancing up to Ben for a split second then looking away. Surely, he felt her reaction. But she doubts he knows exactly _how good_ her hand is…

She quickly places the cards face down then grabs the dice again. She shakes them for a moment, now desperately hoping to roll anything but doubles. She tosses them across the table.

A one and a six. Perfect.

Rey smiles to herself then looks up to Ben. “Time to show your hand,” she announces brightly. He cocks his head and looks at her with suspicion, clearly curious to know what makes her so confident. But he doesn’t seem worried, which makes her equally curious to see what he’s been so smug about this whole time.

He sits back nonchalantly and reaches over to turn one of his cards.

An eight.

He glances up at her for a moment before turning over the next one. Rey sucks in a breath when she sees it.

A fifteen.

Ben leans back fully in his chair, crossing his arms and looking over at her with a proud smirk. Rey looks down at the cards, shaking her head in disbelief.

He drew perfect Sabacc. In his very first hand, no less. She’s learned enough about the odds of card playing in the past few days to know that’s very unlikely, an _extremely_ rare circumstance. There’s only one hand that can beat it, the rarest hand in the game…

“What was it that I win, again? A question?” He’s clearly gloating. “One you have to answer _honestly_.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she confirms casually. She pauses for a moment, reaching over for her own cards face down on the table. “That is, of course, if you had won.” In one swift motion, she turns them over. He leans over to peer at her hand and his eyes widen immediately.

“You _have got_ to be kidding me,” he declares incredulously. “The idiot’s array? I draw perfect Sabacc on the first round and you just happen to draw the one hand that can beat it?” He sits back in his chair, his eyes growing suspicious.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warns. “ _You_ were the dealer. You dealt me the cards.” He sighs and nods once, accepting there’s no way she could have cheated. “I told you I was good,” she gloats, collecting the cards from the table.

“You’re _lucky_ ,” he corrects her.

“Lando says that in Sabacc, being lucky is the best kind of good you can be.” She raises an eyebrow at him as she begins shuffling the cards.

“He’s not wrong,” he concedes, tilting his head to the side. “So, what’s your question?” Suddenly, Rey stops shuffling, placing the cards on the table in front of her. She’d been too preoccupied with the improbability of her win to think about what she wants to ask him.

She weaves her fingers together and rests her forearms on the table, looking down.

There are so many things she could ask… things she’s found herself wondering about his childhood, about his time training under Skywalker, about his being opposite to his own mother in a galactic war.

And yet, despite all of the questions running through her mind, there’s only one that stands out. Only one she wants to ask him _right now_ , in this moment. There’s nothing in particular about it relevant to reminding him who he really is, to reminding him of Ben Solo. But she can’t kick the feeling that this is the right question, the reason why the bond brought him here tonight.

Finally, she looks up and leans forward, her eyes fixed on his.

“Do you believe in fate?”

His lips part in surprise. He uncrosses his arms and sits up in his chair, studying her with curiosity, seeming to wonder where this question comes from. He was probably expecting something about his kyber crystal or some other detail about his past he’s refused to share. He continues to stare at her with a strange kind of interest, then abruptly looks away, appearing intense with thought, working out his answer in his head.

He glances up for a moment and begins to say something but stops and leans back in his chair, folding his arms again. He stares intently downward for another minute.

“If…” he starts deliberately, “you mean there are certain things that are meant to be, then yes. But if you mean that there are outcomes beyond anyone’s control, then no.” His eyes drift upwards for a moment, reviewing his answer in his mind. After a moment, he nods firmly in approval.

Rey looks away, processing what he said. She loses herself in thought...

“Ok. You deal this time,” he tells her, breaking the silence abruptly. Her head jerks up, a bit startled, then she reaches out for the deck in front of her. She takes it absently, dealing a couple of cards then pushing them across the table towards him. She deals herself two, staring downward all the while, still mulling over his answer. She briefly glances at her cards, a ten and a seven.

“You’re not satisfied with my answer,” he says quietly, picking up his own cards. Rey presses her lips together, tucking the seven into the bottom of the deck and dealing herself another.

“I just… don’t understand it,” she admits, taking a quick look at her new card. An eleven. “As far as I know, fate means that there are certain things that a person is meant to accomplish or be a part of, regardless if they want to or not. It’s by definition something that’s out of your control.”

“No,” he answers sharply, sliding a card towards her to trade. “A person can be meant for something, but whether it becomes a reality is up to them. There are plenty of destinies in this galaxy that have gone unfulfilled, either because someone lacked the will to make it happen or refused to recognize it.”  Rey listens intently, taking his card and dealing him another.

“Take someone like yourself, for example,” he continues, adding the card to his hand. “You have a destiny beyond scavenging on Jakku, but you’d never have even a hope of achieving it if you chose to stay there waiting for no one.” She bristles at this, hardening her jaw. She senses he has more to add but holds back. Probably something about her wasting her time with the Resistance. She sweeps up the dice and immediately tosses them. A four and a three.

“I understand,” she begins a bit irritably, “that nothing happens unless someone chooses to act.” She trades one of her cards without really thinking, not bothering to look at the new one. “But isn’t fate the idea that there are certain actions, certain things we do in our lives that aren’t so much choices as they are…” Her voice trails off as she searches for the right words.

Suddenly, she leans forward, eyes bright with intensity. “The product of the perfect alignment of circumstances, designed to guide us to our destiny?” She’s surprised by the tone of her own voice, impassioned, almost pleading. Her gaze falters a bit as she sits back, feeling a little self-conscious.

Ben’s looking at her softly now. He tilts his head, studying her closely. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, a strange kind of glimmer in his eyes. She shifts in her chair, feeling even more self-conscious.

“Why did you ask me about this?” He intones quietly. “What is it about fate that’s so important to you?”

For a few moments, she finds herself lost in his dark gaze, how he seems curious yet knowing at the same time. But she soon recollects herself, looking away. She sighs and shakes her head, bringing her focus back to the game. She quickly turns up her cards to glance at her hand. Two elevens.

“If you want an answer to that question, you’ll just have to win the next call.” She looks over at him cheekily, a teasing smile on her lips. He grunts, annoyed but half-amused. He slides one of his cards over for her to trade. “Besides,” she continues, taking the card, “you deflected from my question about actions guided by circumstances beyond your control—”

“There aren’t things beyond your control,” he cuts her off. “Especially when it comes to your actions.”

She balks at him, stopping cold just as she was beginning to slide him a new card. “You do realize that’s patently absurd,” she tells him with a tinge of condescension.

“ _Rey…_ ” He leans over to snatch the card from her. “People speak of things out of their control as an excuse for inaction or poor choices. Most things _can be_ in your control if you have the will to make it so.” Rey shakes her head in disbelief, reaching for the dice.

“I’m sure it seems that way from your perspective,” she tells him caustically, tossing the dice with a smooth flick of her wrist. “You’re in a position where everyone around you follows your word as law. _Of course_ , you think everything is in your control.” She glances up at him, raising an eyebrow and he looks away, his jaw twitching, doing a terrible job of concealing irritation.

“I came into that position through my _actions_ , through taking control of my own destiny,” he responds forcefully.

Rey flits her head in annoyance as she checks her hand, reminding herself what she has. Two elevens, that’s right. She should win with that. She looks up at Ben with a little fire in her eyes.

“One of these days,” she begins in a defiant tone, “you’re going to run across something that’s _completely_ beyond your control.” She stares at him for a few seconds, eyes piercing.

Finally, she looks away, grabbing the dice. “One last chance to trade,” she informs him coolly, glancing up. He shakes his head absently, clearly not focused on the game. She tosses the dice and is surprised to see them land on two threes. She sits up and tsks her tongue.  

“Give me your cards,” she commands, holding out a palm. Ben looks up, confused. He hadn’t been paying attention. She nods towards the dice and he raises his eyebrows in recognition, picking up his cards to give to her. She adds both their hands to the bottom of the deck then draws two cards for each of them, him first then herself.

“Well, this should be interesting,” she mutters. “It’s time to call.” She looks up at him and he nods towards her.

“You first.” He juts his chin up.

She shrugs her shoulders in assent and turns over her cards to reveal a thirteen and a five. Not bad for a newly acquired hand. She tilts her head to the side, pleased with this, then looks back up to Ben.

“Your turn,” she announces

He sighs and sits up, seeming bored, no longer engaged in the game. That is, until he turns his cards over.

A twelve and a ten. Definitely the winning hand.

He cocks is head smugly, leaning forward with a smirk. “Now where were we…” He looks to the ceiling as he feigns trying to remember. “That’s right,” he begins in a mocking tone, “I asked you why the idea of fate was so important to you.” He raises an eyebrow. “So…” He nods towards her.  

Rey sighs heavily, sitting up straight, bringing her shoulders down. She stares off distantly for a minute, struggling with herself.

She knows her answer to the question. It just feels strange to try to say it out loud… especially to him. She takes a breath and leans forward, folding her hands in her lap, eyes cast downward.

“When I was on Jakku,” she begins quietly. “I had the same dream almost every night.” She stops for a moment, gulping. “You saw it.” She glances up briefly. “The ocean. The island. The cave.” She begins rubbing her hands together without quite realizing it.

“Then I went there,” she continues. “Actually _went_ there, to this place I’d been dreaming about for so long...” Her voice trails off and she feels a familiar sinking in her chest, the same feeling she gets every time she thinks of Achc-To. She stares down intently for a moment, working up the courage to keep going. She feels Ben’s eyes on her, his interest in her answer to the question. But he waits patiently, wordlessly. She takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.

“And it was a disaster,” she finishes, still looking down. “Nothing went the way I expected. Everything seemed to go wrong.” She shakes her head and her shoulders drop, an invisible weight bearing down heavily upon her. She looks off into nothing, a deep-seated fear gnawing at her, crawling to the forefront of her mind.

“It was like…” she begins again in a faraway voice, “it was fate for me to be there, to _finally_ figure out where I belong, but when I arrived…” She bows her head deeply, fighting back tears, annoyed with herself for crying in the first place. “I must have done something wrong.” She says this nearly at a whisper. She squeezes her eyes shut, determined to keep her tears at bay.

“No.” Ben breaks the silence in a firm tone. She immediately looks up at him, surprised. He’s leaning towards her, his eyes intense with absolute certainty. “Your place was never on that forsaken rock with that tired old man and his tired old religion. Your destiny is _so much bigger_ than that.” He shakes his head, a knowing smile creeping across his lips. He stares at her for a few seconds and she stares back, feeling increasingly drawn into his dark gaze.

“Rey,” he continues in a deep voice, “Do you have any idea how powerful you are?” He pauses to give her a chance to respond but she only continues to stare wordlessly. “I do.” He sits up, eyes still fixed on hers. “I feel it all the time through the bond. You have more natural power in the Force than anyone I’ve ever seen. Definitely more than Luke. Maybe even more than Snoke.”

He leans forward again with complete self-assurance. She can feel how much he truly believes what he’s saying. “This whole galaxy can be yours. Whatever you want, you can have it. The universe is at your fingertips. You just have to reach out and _take it_.” He articulates the last words forcefully, with the fervor of a battle cry. He stares at her intently for a few seconds then sits back in his chair, never taking his eyes off her.

Gradually, his gaze softens and as it does, a strong emotion wells within her, one that she remembers from the kyber cave. It’s overwhelming, crushing. It must be coming from him. It’s not an emotion she understands or even recognizes. Her heart feels heavy from it, but she doesn’t wish it away. There’s something in it she finds comforting. More than that. It feels like an answer deep-seated question, one she can’t name.

“Rey.” She flinches a little at the sound of his voice, so caught in his gaze that it startles her. “You _do_ have a place, somewhere you belong. And you’ll find it soon enough.” He continues to stare at her and she starts to grow uneasy, suspicious as to how he can be so utterly confident in this.

“What makes you so sure?” She asks him warily, narrowing her eyes. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply stares at her with self-assurance. Then he abruptly looks away, reaching over for her cards and the deck. He combines his own cards with them and begins to shuffle.

“If you want to know the answer to that question, you’ll have to win the next call.” He looks up briefly, then gives her a teasing wink. She rolls her eyes, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the table, a smile creeping across her lips in spite of herself. She watches him flip through the cards. One card seems to catch his eye. He pulls it from the deck, setting the rest of the cards down as he examines it.

“This is a strange set of cards,” he muses aloud. “I’ve never seen one like it. Did Lando tell you where it’s from?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But the deck’s mine now.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, looking up at her and placing the card on the table. “So one of the greatest card players in the galaxy not only taught you to play but gave your own one-of-a-kind deck?” He grunts softly. “If there is such a thing as fate, it’s definitely on your side.” That glimmer returns to his eyes as he stares at her, and she feels her cheeks grow warm under his regard. She gazes back at him wordlessly, so easily drawn in by those dark, black wells.

But in an instant, they’re gone and Rey’s head jerks back, gasping a little at his sudden disappearance. She looks out at the empty chair where he once was, feeling the loss of his presence.

Then just like that, her spirits drop.

She hangs her head and crosses her arms, taking note of this change inside her for a moment

She once felt engaged, stimulated, swept up in this conviction that she still has some great destiny to fulfill. Now she feels hollow, left with nothing but her doubt, her uncertainty.

And yet…

Rey rises from her chair, placing her fingertips on the surface of the table, looking out intently into nothing, lost in her own mind.

She can’t help but feel a renewed hope that she _is_ part of something bigger. She _will_ find her place, her destiny.

But she can’t just sit and wait. No, she needs to _search_ , to look for new opportunities to test the limits of what she can do.

Yes, that’s it. She needs to grow, to challenge herself. It’s through new challenges that she’ll discover what she’s really capable of, what she’s _meant_ to do.

She walks over to the other side of the table, consumed in thought. She sweeps up the deck of cards and begins to head to her bedroom, though she knows she won’t be getting to sleep any time soon. Her mind is too busy.

She enters the hall but stops abruptly, turning around to face the table. She makes her way back towards it, eyeing the card that Ben pulled from deck still lying face down. She reaches out to take it, glancing at it briefly.

She immediately grows cold, stiffening at the sight of it. She hardens her jaw, looking down at the card with an uneasy feeling.  

In an instant, she shakes her head briskly, banishing the feeling and mentally chastising herself for being so silly.

She slips the Satellite card into the deck with the others, then turns to go to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Sabacc stuff comes from Wookiepedia: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sabacc


	16. True Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren enjoys a new toy in the training room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "dark side." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

Kylo Ren roars in pain as the blade slices through his flesh, pinning him to the wall.

Both hands fly up to grip the center of the double-sided sword now sticking out of his shoulder. He looks into the blank face staring down from above.

The droid cocks its head and twists the blade like it’s relishing the moment. It’s humanoid— a lithe body with two arms, two legs, and an armored shell that mimics the curves of human musculature.  Kylo can see his reflection in its face, nothing but an oval-shaped screen nested in a metallic hood.

It leans in menacingly, its hand sliding down the hilt.

And that’s exactly the opportunity Kylo needs.

In an instant, he snaps the blade in two, then drives the newly freed end into a weak spot in the droid’s armor, a small opening just between its neck and shoulder.

The droid jerks back mechanically, releasing the end still pinning Kylo to the wall. It reaches over to dislodge the blade from its body. Kylo grits his teeth, groaning as he pulls the sword out of his flesh.

He ducks in anticipation of the droid’s next move, a hard jab to his core, sidestepping it and gaining some distance. He whips around to see the droid beginning to stand from a kneeling position, gripping the end of its own blade in one hand and the intact blade it disarmed him of in the other. It turns methodically towards him.

Rather than resume its assault, it cocks its head, then steps to the side, moving along a curved path. The droid has the air of a predator teasing its prey, seeming to take pleasure in building up tension before an attack.

Kylo begins circling it as well, gripping the hilt of the blade still slick with his own blood. He breathes heavily, dripping with sweat, dark locks of hair sticking to his forehead. The wound in his shoulder throbs, a regular rhythm of shooting pain, crackling like electricity through his veins. He concentrates on the feeling, how the nerves of his damaged flesh scream for attention, begging for healing, begging for him to stop.

But he doesn’t.

Instead he switches the sword from his left hand to his right and squeezes. The damaged muscles in his shoulder howl in response. As the pain surges through his body, a smile creeps across his lips.

It’s been a long time since he’s been injured in the training room. A _very_ long time.

He likes this droid. He likes it very much.

He’s been waiting all day for this. And he’s not disappointed. He’s never seen a droid fight like this one. It has all the advantages of a robotic combatant— an extensive catalogue of martial skills, flawless execution— but it’s programmed with an advanced AI that’s designed manipulate psychological weaknesses, giving it a flair for cruelty in combat.

It doesn’t just fight to win. It fights to demoralize, to utterly exhaust the opponent’s mind and body. During the demonstration this morning, it thrashed Hux’s cadets with what Kylo can only describe as a kind of sadistic brutality. It taunted, it terrorized, and it took every opportunity to inflict flesh wounds, forcing its opponents to fight through physical pain.

Which is why he’s been absolutely _burning_ to get into the training room alone with it, to face it one on one.

Suddenly, Kylo jerks to the right, just barely dodging the blade whizzing by his cheek.

The droid continues circling him as though nothing happened, now armed only with the double-sided sword. Without thinking, Kylo balls his hand into a fist and beats it against the wound in his shoulder, sending a sharp, searing pains down his arm.  

The droid whips into action, snapping its sword in two and charging forward. It launches into a relentless offense, its blades a flurry of motion, slashing and thrusting with power, precision, and inhuman speed.

Kylo struggles to fend off the forceful blows dealt by his stronger opponent, each impact bringing a newer, deeper wave of pain to his right shoulder.

To an outsider, the battle would seem to be all but won. Kylo’s at the disadvantage in every way. The droid is physically larger and stronger. It has two blades to Kylo’s one. It’s progressively backing him into a corner with its complex combination of hacking and slashing, perfectly executed. And though both of them are injured, the droid feels no pain.

Of course, this is where a casual observer might wonder why Kylo’s choosing to wield his blade with an injured arm.

And _here_ lies his advantage, an advantage very few would understand.

Every time his wound is aggravated, every time the muscles tear a bit more, every time his nerves scream in pain— he grows more powerful. For any other person, that shoulder would seize, too painful to fight with. But for him, pain increases rage, and rage increases his strength through the Force.

As Kylo continues fending off the droid’s blows, his blood turns to fire in his veins, surging through his body, charging it with dark power. He starts to feel physically stronger, clashing against the droid’s hard strikes with equal force. It’s still hacking and slashing in a series of moves intended to keep an opponent on the defense, but it’s repeating the same combination again and again and Kylo’s learning its rhythm.

Suddenly, he dodges left, leaping high into the air. He lands on top of the droid and instantly begins driving his blade into its right shoulder with furious strikes— _one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight_ times and the droid’s right arm is dislodged from the rest of its body. Before it hits the ground, Kylo flips off the droid’s shoulders, landing behind it. He immediately whips around.

The droid is beginning to kneel, reaching for its severed arm with its remaining limb, intending to reattach it.

But Kylo lifts the arm into the air and clenches his fist, crunching it into a ball of metal and wires before casting it across the training room.

The droid turns its head, following the now destroyed arm with its blank screen of a face.

Kylo seethes, beating his shoulder before lunging forward.

He meets the droid’s blade with a fiery combination of strikes, well-practiced and fueled by the Force raging through him. He’s pure energy, pure fire, now physically stronger than his opponent, forcefully slashing and hacking, pushing the droid backwards as it fends off blows raining down upon it.

He gives himself over the rage, his true weapon, and it rips through him in a ferocious blast of violence. He’s consumed by the power of the moment, the strange contradiction of unrestrained passion and white hot control. He thrusts his blade forward, across, down, again and again and again, overwhelming the droid, giving it no opportunity to strike back.

This fight is _his_. This droid is about to become a heap of metal and wires…

Suddenly, Kylo catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye and in an instant, his rage abates, roaring flames snuffed out by a gushing flood.

Rey stands at the side of the training room, arms crossed, observing with intense interest.

He halts his assault, only for a split second, but it’s all the opportunity the droid needs.

Kylo feels an explosive blast at his side, and he flies across the room, landing on the matted floor with a thud. He hears the droid charge towards him at full speed.

“Cease all functions.” Kylo barely gets the command out before the droid reaches him.

It freezes mid-rampage, remaining in statue-like position for a moment before straightening and dropping its weapon.

Kylo breathes heavily, each inhale sending shooting pains throughout his left side. He pushes up from the floor, picturing a large bruise across the skin of his ribcage.

He hears Rey jog over from the side of the room, stopping beside him just as he fully stands. He looks down and is met with concerned eyes.  

“You’re hurt.” She extends a hand to his shoulder.

“No, I’m not.” He jerks away.

She withdraws, dropping her arm.

He wipes the sweat off his face with a shudder, annoyed that the bond caught him by surprise _yet again_. He stoops over to pick up his weapon from the floor, then walks to the droid. He appears to examine it, but really he’s just trying to change gears, adapt to the new situation.

It’s not that she’s unwelcome. It’s just… not an ideal time. He can’t put his finger on why, but he hates it when she shows up at a time like this, when he’s tense and hot with fury.

Of course, her presence has a marked influence on that. He already feels the rage starting to leave his body, like steam evaporating from a hot surface. As he leans over to pick up the droid’s weapon, he notes his blood has slowed to an even flow.

He takes a minute to examine the blades, looking both of them over then snapping them together to form a full weapon. All the while, he concentrates on Rey, what he senses in her as she stands behind him.

She’s concerned. And vaguely disapproving.

He needs to distract her…

“I’m sure you remember this from the throne room.” He turns, tossing the arbir blade in her direction.

Her eyes widen, but she catches the double-sided weapon easily, her reflexes sharp. She looks down at it, most likely remembering their battle with the Praetorian guards, one of them wielding a weapon much like this one.

“It’s not equipped with an ultrasonic generator.” He walks towards her. “But there’s no need for one unless you’re fighting against a lightsaber.”

She snaps the blade in two, bringing one end close to inspect it.

“Would you like to give it a try?” His lips curl upwards.

He’s been _dying_ to get her into the training room again, try out new weapons— ones she’s never used before— and see how she does with them. He loves being in a fight with her, watching her improvise, get creative…

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” She connects the blades together. “Not right now.” She looks up, her eyes drifting to his injured shoulder. “That’s an angry wound.” She nods to it. “You shouldn’t be fighting anyone until you get that taken care of.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, extending a hand for the sword.

She gives it to him, looking concerned.

He walks briskly past her to a wall with weapons affixed to it. He casts the blade to the floor and immediately strides over to the washing station, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face. His shoulder is still throbbing, the pain transforming into an inconvenience now that he’s no longer in combat.

He hears Rey approach slowly from behind. He senses her burning with interest, a question on the tip of her tongue. He doesn’t turn around but continues to clean himself up, taking note of the blood flow at his shoulder.

Rey stands silently, watching him, that question nagging at her.

“ _Yes?_ ” He draws out the word, still facing the washing station.

She doesn’t say anything.

Now he senses hesitation. He shakes his head, more to himself than to her, casting his towel to the side. He sighs, finally turning around.

“What is it, Rey?” He folds his arms. “I can feel you want to ask me something. So just ask.”

She parts her lips to speak but immediately stops. She stares at him for a moment before looking away, wrestling internally, as if she wants to ask the question but knows she won’t like the answer. Finally, she looks back, her eyes tinged with disapproval but also a little tenderness. 

“Why…?” She shifts a little. “Why do you aggravate your injuries during a fight?”

He instantly looks away, realizing why she was hesitant to ask the question.

The answer _will not_ lead to a pleasant interaction between them.  

“Because it makes me stronger,” he answers dismissively, turning back to the washing station.

“How?” She probes.

He grabs the towel and begins cleaning the area around his wound, not because he needs to, just to do something.

“Pain is a trigger for Force-sensitives,” he says matter-of-factly. “Pain, hatred, fear— all of it can be converted into rage. Pure energy, pure power. It increases strength, speed, endurance—”

“But at what cost?” She interrupts. “To your body, to your mind?”

He rolls his eyes, keeping his back to her.

“What’s the effect of channeling that kind of energy in the long term? Won’t it ultimately weaken you?” 

“In some ways.” He twitches, casting the towel on the washing station. “But not in a way that matters.” He turns to face her.

“What ways?” She narrows her eyes.

He folds his arms, staring down impassively.

“Over time, it can take a toll on the body.” His tone is even. “Eventually, it can cause physical deformity. Assuming one lives long enough.”

“Are dark siders known to die young?” Something about the way she asks this sounds more like a criticism than a question.

He abruptly turns and begins striding to the other end of the room.

“That or they live for hundreds of years, like Snoke.” He hears Rey follow behind him.

“So, you’ll either die in the next few years or grow to be horribly deformed.”

He pushes out an exhale, continuing to the blade the droid was holding when he cut off its arm.

“I’m sure you’ll recall Snoke’s physical deformity did nothing to diminish his power,” he snipes. “Just the opposite, in fact. As his body grew weaker, his strength in the Force increased tenfold.” He stoops down, scooping up the end of arbir blade lying on the floor.

“And it doesn’t bother you that you’ll eventually look like he did, all twisted, mangled flesh?”

He turns around, brushing past her on his way to the side of the room.

“I honestly don’t think about it,” he calls back. “I’m sure when the time comes, it won’t really matter.”

“It won’t matter that you’ll look nothing like you do now, that you might not even look human?” She tags behind him

He bristles, clenching his fists, causing shooting pains in his injured shoulder. He grows irritated, annoyed at how easily she seems to pass judgement on something she doesn’t understand.

“Power has a price, Rey,” he answers curtly.

“Well, it seems to me that the price is too high.”

At this, he whips around, and she halts, jumping.

“ _Really?_ ” He steps forward, a fire in his eyes. “And what’s the basis of this judgement? What do _you_ know about the dark side?” He bears over her. “Please. Educate me.” He cocks his head.

She fights to maintain an even gaze but her eyes grow increasingly uncertain.

They stare at one another for a few seconds before she looks away. He feels her emotions change, a sense of conviction replaced by insecurity.

“That’s what I thought.” He lingers a moment before turning and walking away. “You don’t know a damn thing about the dark side,” he calls back. “In fact, I’d guess you know as much about the dark side as you do about the Jedi.”

He feels this hit her hard, a harsh reminder of her ignorance about the Force. This time, she doesn’t follow him.

He reaches for the blade that the droid threw at him, scooping it up from the floor. He attaches it to its other blade, then walks over to the weapons affixed to the wall, casting it on the floor.

“Why don’t you teach me?” Rey suddenly calls out.

“About what?” He turns to find her walking towards him, arms crossed lightly, shoulders relaxed. 

“About the dark side, about the difference between the dark and the light.” Her tone is curious now, casual even.

He narrows his eyes, suspicious.

_What is she up to?_

She stops just in front of him, looking up with earnest eyes, like a student ready to learn. He doesn’t sense disapproval anymore, only curiosity, though he can’t shake the feeling she has some kind of ulterior motive.

He tilts his head, examining her.

She maintains her gaze, light brown eyes fixed on his, completely ingenuous.

“What do you want to know?” He crosses his arms.

Her eyes flit up to the ceiling, then lower down.

“Start with the basics.” She shrugs. “Based on your experience, what’s the most fundamental difference between the dark and light side of the Force?”

Kylo ‘s eyebrows shoot up.

“Surely, that’s something you already know,” he begins in an authoritative tone. “Dark siders channel the power of the Force through emotions that are often considered negative— pain, anger, hatred, fear— whereas the light side is the opposite. The Jedi taught channeling the Force through things like peace, compassion, and love. They feared the stronger emotions. They believed in restraint, in eschewing certain _undesirable_ experiences.”

“And you disapprove?” She raises an eyebrow.

He clicks his tongue.

“Not of channeling the Force through _so-called_ lighter emotions,” he says decisively. “But teaching that one should completely reject feelings integral to sentient existence, feelings that can unleash the true power of the Force? _That_ I very much disagree with.”

Rey knits her eyebrows.

“What do you mean by the _true_ power of the Force?” She tilts her head. “Is channeling the Force through peace and love not true power?”

Kylo scoffs.

“Rey.” He steps towards her with a glimmer. “You have _no idea_. You haven’t really felt the Force until you’ve felt it through rage. It’s like losing yourself yet maintaining control at the same time. _Trust me_. Once you get a taste of that kind of power, there’s no turning back.”

Something flickers across her eyes, but the emotion is too fleeting for him to detect.

“So, you think the dark side is the stronger aspect?”

“Without question.” He practically cuts her off. “The dark side is all about unleashing one’s potential, not holding it back. All of the things the Jedi Order rejected— aggression, anger…” He leans in. “ _Unrestrained passion_.”

She flinches subtly.

“These are all things dark siders embrace. And it’s ultimately the reason why they know the full extent of the Force’s power in a way that a Jedi never could.” He lingers for a moment, a smirk teasing his lips, before straightening.

Rey gazes up softly, then looks away. She presses her lips together, lost in thought.

“But…” She begins slowly. “Why are emotions like anger and aggression the better way to wield the Force’s power? Are there not ways to use the Force through peace and love that can’t be done through the darker emotions?”

Kylo sighs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes,” he concedes begrudgingly. “But that’s not my point.”

He pauses, searching his mind for the best way to put this. He purses his lips, glancing to the ceiling.

“Think of it this way.” He looks back at her. “The bedrock of Jedi training is meditation. It’s at the core of almost everything they teach. They even teach _battle meditation_.” He grunts.

“That’s not to say,” he continues, “that nothing can be gained from meditation. But it’s ultimately a passive exercise. The entire Jedi philosophy is passive, to observe and maintain, not really _do_ anything.”

Rey listens, processing the information, more to understand than to judge.

“But dark siders…?” A slow smile creeps across his lips. “The bedrock of their training is combat. It’s _active_. It’s all about taking any situation into your own hands and making it _yours_ , bending it to _your purpose_ , _your will_.” He feels himself grow impassioned as he speaks, a spark in his chest.

“The Jedi called it darkness and that term has come to define it, but really…” He shakes his head. “It’s only a belief that the Force should be used to _do something_ more than simply keep the peace. It should be used to _create_ peace, to create order, to propel the galaxy forward through sheer will and power.”

Rey’s not looking at him anymore. She’s staring down, eyebrows furrowed. He senses her struggle internally, working through what he’s telling her. After a few moments, she begins to nod.

“I think I understand what you mean,” she starts slowly. She finally looks up, her eyes calm and confident. “And honestly, I don’t think I agree with the Jedi philosophy of being passive. Master Skywalker taught me about that, actually.”

He tenses at the reference to his uncle, the nerves around his wound screaming.

He ignores the pain.  

“But I’m not convinced that the emotions used to channel dark side of the Force are more powerful than those used to channel the light.” She keeps her eyes fixed on his. “Compassion, love… these things aren’t passive in nature. Surely, not everything the Jedi taught about these emotions was passive. And even if it was, that doesn’t mean such emotions _can’t_ be used in other ways, perhaps ways that haven’t even been discovered yet.” Her eyes sparkle with possibility.

Kylo tilts his head in concession.

“That could be true,” he admits. “But I still don’t think anything will ever outmatch the unique ability of rage to harness the full power of the Force.” He juts his chin up.

“I suppose that depends on your definition power.” Rey looks down. “And I’m sure that whatever can be done through love doesn’t exact the same cost as what can be done through anger.”

At this, Kylo sighs, shaking his head.

Just when he thought this conversation was going more smoothly than expected, she’s back to this again.

Rey looks up with solemn eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Why open up that subject again, if he can help it?

He brushes past her, walking swiftly to the other side of the room.  

“You know…” He slows at the sound of Rey’s voice. “When I appeared here today, you were on top of a droid, relieving it of its right arm.” He hears her walk in his direction, and he halts, his back to her.

“You were so consumed in rage, you didn’t even sense my presence. Not then and for a while after. It was like nothing else existed except pain and anger and all its energy coursing through you.”

He turns to face her, guarded.

She walks up to him, stopping just a foot away, eyes soft and full of purpose.

“I felt how much you were enjoying it in the moment.” She stares at him, unblinking. “But I also felt something else. How your body was screaming for you to stop, for you to heal. And something deeper. Like… a pain in your soul.”

He closes his eyes and starts to turn away, but Rey reaches out, gripping his forearm.

“Ben, you were the one who said that the bond brings us together when we’re feeling vulnerable.” She sounds earnest, pleading even. “All I’m asking you to do is _consider_ that maybe, just _maybe_ , there’s something about being in that kind of rage that’s a moment of vulnerability for you, even if it doesn’t feel that way at the time.”

He pulls back, but she grips his forearm more tightly.

“Maybe the bond’s trying to get you to realize what all of this anger is doing to you.”

At this, he jerks away, aggravating sharp pains in his shoulder.  

“You don’t know what you’re _talking about_ ,” he spits.

She flinches but quickly hardens with resolve.

“I know what I feel through the bond,” she says confidently. “I _literally_ feel your pain, Ben. So, don’t try to lie to me. I know exactly what rage feels like for you, how it rips you apart—”

“Oh, _come on_ , Rey.” He glares at her with disdain. “You think you know the dark side because you saw me in a Force rage for half a minute? You don’t know _anything_. About the dark side, about the light side. You barely understand the Force at all.”

He steps forward, bearing over her, covering her with his shadow.

“You’re just a desert scavenger who’s only training was one week with a sad old failure of a Jedi. Why would I _ever_ listen to what an ignorant girl like you has to say about the Force?”

Rey snaps back, eyes wide with surprise. She’s speechless. She looks up at him, lips parted, surprise gradually deepening into hurt.

She looks away just she begins to well with tears.

Kylo takes a step back to give her some space, observing silently.

As she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand, his chest tightens, pulled in opposite directions. On the one hand, he still _burns_ that she would have _the audacity_ to lecture _him_ on how he should and should not use the Force.

On the other hand…

He hates seeing her like this. Especially when he’s the one who caused it.

Rey hugs herself tightly, eyes closed and head bowed. He feels her cycle through a progression of emotions, first hurt, then insecurity, and finally anger.

She inhales sharply.

She’s on the verge lashing out. He pictures her eyes flying open in fury.

But they don’t.

Instead, she takes measured breaths, shallow at first but growing deeper. Eventually, her shoulders relax, and she drops her arms.

She continues to breathe steadily. He senses she’s not upset anymore. In fact, she’s entering what seems to be a meditative state. She feels calm, at peace, focused on everything and nothing at the same time. She stands silently for a minute, seeming unaware of her surroundings.

Then, she does something strange.

With her eyes still closed, she raises her left hand slowly. She stops just as she passes his injured shoulder and opens her palm, extending it not an inch away from his wound. She stands just like this, perfectly still, doing absolutely nothing.

He tilts his head, eyeing her curiously.

Then he feels it.

A change in his body.

The torn muscles in his shoulder begin to mend, growing back together. His screaming nerves start to quiet. The throbbing gradually fades way. He watches, gaping, as Rey puts him back together again, taking away all of his pain until there’s nothing left.

Once he’s whole, she drops her hand, her head bowed, eyes closed. She waits calmly for a second before turning her face up to his.

She doesn’t say anything. Neither does he. They both just stare at one another.

Her gaze is soft, not a hint of satisfaction or smugness or anything resembling pride. No, instead her eyes are full of something else, something so unexpected, so shocking, he can’t quite believe it’s real.

He finds that he’s frozen, unable to move or speak, barely able to breathe. He can only stare at her, lost in her eyes, in this feeling that he hasn’t felt from someone in a very long time.

She stares at him wordlessly, as lost in him as he is in her.

Then she abruptly disappears like she has many times before, the loss of her presence making his heart drop in his chest.

But this time, her absence isn’t followed by that aching emptiness, that loneliness that tugs at him most cruelly just after the bond takes her away.

He’s much too consumed in what just happened to feel such a thing.

He stands in the center of the training room, unable to move. His arms hang at his sides, his head turned downward, staring at the space where Rey used to be. He’s still processing the shock of it, of her healing him, what he felt in her when she did.

There are so many things he could be thinking about right now.

Like the fact that she’d clearly never done that before. He felt her acting out of instinct, not training.

Or the fact that healing is a _very_ difficult Force skill to master, one that he never came even _close_ to doing himself.

Or the fact that what she just did is a perfect example of a Force ability that dark siders have never been able to fully accomplish. 

But he can’t think about any of these things. He can’t think of anything except _how_ she healed him, the emotion she tapped into to do it.

It’s very distinct. It’s been well over a decade since he’s felt anything like it, but he recognized it immediately.

He doubts that she knows what it is.

Why would she? She’s never had an occasion in her life to feel such a thing. But she’ll recognize it soon enough…

He thinks back to those moments, her palm hovering next to his wound, the muscles in his shoulder growing together. He thinks about that warm, steady glow that welled within her and through the bond, in him as well.

And for the first time, he allows himself to admit the truth.

He’s been feeling that way about her for a long time.

It’s something he’s desperately tried to avoid, but now that he knows the feeling is returned, he can finally give himself over to it.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

He remembers the first few times the bond brought them together. He remembers what it was like to be seen, _actually_ _seen_ , after years of living under a mask. He remembers how terrifying that was.

And how deeply satisfying. He hadn’t realized how much he craved it, how much he wanted someone to know him, to see everything he is, even things he’s spent his entire adult life trying to hide.

And when she saw that, when she saw his true face…

Her first instinct was to feel compassion for him.

Because that’s just who she is.

He has no idea how she managed to become that way. Most of her life, she’s fought to survive, completely alone in a barren, sand-choked wasteland, surrounded by scum willing to steal or lie or kill. Growing up in an environment like that, she should be selfish and callous. She should be bitter and untrusting, willing to betray anyone the moment it’s convenient.

But she’s not.

Instead, she’s compassionate and loyal. She can see the good in anything, even monster like him. She takes such pleasure in the smallest things, like a flower or the sound of rain. In so many ways, she’s still a lonely little girl.

And yet she’s capable and brave, too brave sometimes. She’s imaginative, innovative, creative. She can fix anything. He’s never met someone who’s so vulnerable and so strong at the same time.

As he thinks about these things, a familiar feeling rushes upon him, but this time, he doesn’t fight it, or bury it, or conceal it.

He just experiences it, the crushing weight of it, so overwhelming it’s painful, but _damn_ it’s the best pain he’s ever felt in his life. It’s an exquisite pain, only a manifestation of feeling so much, so deeply, all at once. It’s a powerful combination of every kind of desire imaginable.

And now, he feels that desire blending with a deep sense of gratitude.

Because she feels the same way about him.

He stands still for several minutes, losing himself in emotion, until he finally wills himself to move, to turn towards the door and take one step, then another. He takes each step more quickly than the last until he accelerates to his normal, brisk stride. He presses a panel by the door and charges out of the training room.

He strides through a hall of the ship, seemingly with purpose, but he’s not paying attention to where he’s going. He’s still in a daze, still lost in his own mind.  

And for just a second, just a fleeting moment, the thought occurs to him.

The emotion that’s coursing through him right now is more intense than anything he’s felt before. More all-consuming, more dynamic.

It’s powerful. More powerful than he could have possibly imagined.

And it’s all the more powerful now that he knows it’s shared.


	17. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren prepares to begin a series of outer rim invasions.

Two pairs of boots click rhythmically along the halls of the dreadnaught, one with brisk, steady strides, the other with short, hurried steps.

“Everything’s set for the invasion of the Salient system, sir.” The officer trails behind, struggling to keep up with the Supreme Leader as he charges forward. “The aerial forces are equipped and mobilized, ready to be dispatched on your comma—”

“Has Captain Rhada submitted her report on the new Silencers?” Kylo Ren interrupts without looking back.

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” the officer answers emphatically. “Absolutely no problems whatsoever.”

“Nothing with the laser cannons, the stealth field generators?” He asks in his distorted voice.

“Nothing,” the officer assures him. “Every single ship prepared for the aerial assault is operating at maximum functionality.”

“Good,” The Supreme Leader replies. “And Epsilon Squadron is set to take the lead?”

“Yes, sir.” The officer nods deeply as he says this. “The ace pilot submitted his report on their preparations half an hour ago. He’s deeply honored by this opportunity and confident that you will be immensely pleased with his organization of the assault.”

“We’ll see.” There’s an undertone of darkness in this response. The officer looks down and gulps, continuing to tag along a few paces behind. “And the ground forces?” Kylo Ren continues.

“Ready for dispatch at the ace pilot’s signal,” the officer responds. “They’ll follow behind and sweep the rest of the scum out. According to General Voigt’s estimates, all of the Zidon gang’s major bases of operation will be decimated within the week which should halt the system’s illegal Varium market completely.”

“Tell General Kas I want to meet with him at 0600 tomorrow to discuss the negotiations with Salient I and Salient II,” Kylo commands.

“Absolutely.” The officer slows his pace a bit as he enters a note in his data pad then scurries swiftly forward to close the gap. “Also, I have a report from General Ailen, sir.” The Supreme Leader strides on wordlessly. The officer follows behind, waiting for an indication to continue. Several seconds pass.

“Go on.” Kylo Ren sounds irritated, like he’s gritting his teeth inside his mask.

“Right, of course,” the officer says hurriedly. “He wanted you to know that for the past three days, he’s increased the frequency of broadcast for the holos that mention the Zidon gang by name. As a result, we’ve received an outpouring of requests to do something about their atrocities, several from major figures in the galaxy.” For the first time, Kylo Ren’s pace slows and he turns his head slightly to the side.

“ _Very_ good.” He clearly sounds pleased. “Did he say where the majority of these requests came from? The Inner rim? Mid rim? Outer rim?”

“No…” The officer shrinks a little. “But I will ask.” He quickly enters another note on his data pad. “If I may be so bold sir…” the officer continues hesitantly as the Supreme Leader resumes his brisk pace, “based on what I’ve been hearing, the vast majority of the galaxy will be _thrilled_ at our offensive against Zidon. It’s a win-win. We get access to the Varium, and the galaxy has one less lawless mob to worry about.”

“We’ll see,” Kylo Ren responds with same darkness in his tone. He stops abruptly in front of the door to his quarters, so abruptly that the officer nearly rams into him. He turns sharply to face the man, who instinctively takes a step away. “Tell General Ailen I want to see him at 0700 tomorrow for a full report.”   

“Yes, sir.” He enters the note quickly then looks back up, eager for his next order. The black mask stares down at him silently. With each passing second, the officer feels his chest tighten.

“You’re dismissed,” the Supreme Leader finally tells him. The officer holds in an exhale of relief, turning and walking away swiftly. Kylo Ren stares coldly after him for a moment before entering a code in the keypad next to the door. It whirs open and the lights in his room turn on as he enters.

He removes his mask and places it on top of a column to the right. He begins to stride towards the closet, pulling off his gloves, his mind consumed in the preparations for the upcoming invasion.

He’s not worried about the success of the campaign. According to their intel, Zidon’s guerilla forces aren’t at all equipped to mount even a semblance of an effective defense against them.

He’s more worried about the aftermath, about how this will be perceived, how it could affect negotiations with other planets. The truth is Zidon is less of a gang and more of a military rebellion against Salient’s incompetent governance. A sizable chunk of the system’s population supports their actions. This invasion _will not_ go over well with them.

But the niceties of local politics in outer rim systems will most likely be lost on the rest of the galaxy. And he’s cautiously optimistic Ailen’s holos will sway the vast majority of public opinion in their favor. Their reputation will suffer in Salient. After the invasion, the system will be _extremely_ vulnerable to rebellion. They’ll need monitor it closely for the next decade at least, keep Resistance recruiters _out_. 

But if they can accomplish the task and contain the threat of rebellion, this could be a model moving forward. They’ll have to perfect it, of course. Adapt it for different situations. But they can go like this, from system to system, throughout the outer rim and eliminate _all_ criminal organizations, restoring power back to official governments or governments of the First Order’s making. Then resource extraction will go like clockwork.

Not only that, but they’ll have consolidated power throughout the _whole_ of the galaxy, a distinction the Empire never even came _close_ to achieving.  

Kylo Ren smiles to himself as he pulls a thin undershirt over his bare skin, turning and walking towards his bed.

Yes, in a few years’ time, people will look back and think of the Empire’s effort to establish control over the galaxy as _pathetic_ compared to the success of the First Order.  

He sinks down onto the bed, consumed by thoughts of infinite power, a reign that will last for thousands of years, and as he does, he feels a warm swell of satisfaction in his chest.

But his mind soon drifts, wanders against his will to the same place it has every day since the last time he saw her.

The warmth in his chest dies abruptly, replaced by a cold, sinking feeling. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together tightly and staring intently downward.

He’s thought about it a thousand times. He wishes he could stop, keep his mind from overanalyzing that moment in the training room _obsessively_. But he has no more control over his thoughts than he does his own heartbeat. And the more he thinks about it, the more he questions it…

He was so sure of himself at the time, so sure of what he felt in her when she healed him. But it didn’t take more than a single night for the uncertainty to creep in, self-doubt interminably gnawing at him.

Maybe he misread her. After all, it’s been _years_ since he felt anything close to something like that from someone. Can he really trust his own judgement in the matter?

Perhaps not. Perhaps what he felt wasn’t what he thought at all. Just a deeper kind of compassion.

He starts to rub his palms together, hunching over with tense shoulders, increasingly plagued by the crushing fear…

That the feeling he thought was returned isn’t really returned at all.

Beneath this fear, these worries filling the forefront of his mind, is a deeper fear, buried in his subconscious. It’s not something he’s really aware of. It’s less like a thought and more like a fundamental belief, one that makes him doubt that Rey could ever love him at all.

The belief that he’s not lovable. Never has been, never will be. Everything he is, everything that’s gotten him here, to becoming Supreme Leader— his rage, his aggression, his ambition, his indifference… It also makes him this way. Unlovable.

But this is not something his conscious brain acknowledges. Instead, it manifests as the fear that he misread what he felt when she healed him. And the memory of the last thing he said to her, the look on her face after he said it, the hurt in her eyes.

He sighs and bows his head, a familiar twist of regret in his heart.

Yes, he must have misread her. Considering what he said, who he is… it just doesn’t make sense that she’d feel anything more than compassion for him.

He twitches his jaw, that cold weight sinking deeper in his chest. He absently brings a foot up to his knee, beginning to remove his boot, but stops abruptly. 

His heart skips a beat.

He immediately drops his boot back down to the floor and straightens, closing his eyes. He takes a deep inhale, a familiar feeling rising in his core, the herald of her presence drawing nearer. He tries to clear his mind, bring himself into a more even mental state, bury all of the worry, all of the doubt…

He’s spent a lifetime concealing his emotions, maintaining a cold front, even in the presence of powerful Force-sensitives. He’s become quite good at it. Though the bond does make it considerably more difficult to hide things from her…  

He takes another deep inhale, and before he lets it out, he senses her several feet in front of him.

He exhales slowly, his eyes still closed, on edge but mostly under control. His mind is blank. His heartbeat is steady.

Finally, he opens his eyes.

Rey’s back is to him. Her shoulders are hunched, arms wrapped tightly around herself.  

She’s upset. _Very_ upset.

At first, he wonders if she’s still angry with him over their last encounter. But no… the emotions tearing through her right now are much too fresh.

He’s never felt her like this before. She feels _exhausted_ , both mentally and physically. It’s like battle fatigue, as though she’s just endured hours of combat and is still recovering from the shock of it all— the sensory overload, the fear, the adrenaline.

She doesn’t turn around. She still stands with her back to him, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself down.

He rises from the bed slowly. He stands silently for a few moments before he begins to approach her with careful steps, stopping once he’s just a foot behind her. She still doesn’t turn around or even acknowledge his presence. She just stands with her head bowed.

He observes her quietly.

“Rey,” he says in a low voice. “What’s wrong?” He hears her gulp, then let out a long, measured exhale. She ignores him for a few seconds more.

“Nothing,” she lies, finally turning around to face him. She looks up, her jaw hardened, her expression determined but… she’s clearly been crying. Her eyes are red and puffy.

He tilts his head in doubt, gazing down at her softly, but doesn’t say anything. She stares back at him with firm resolve, fighting to keep her emotions at bay.

After a moment, he turns to the side, walking towards his desk just a few feet away. He pulls out the chair from under it, adjusting it so that it faces outward across the room.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggests quietly, glancing over at her. She doesn’t look in his direction, her eyes trained forward.

He waits for a moment before moving back towards his bed. He hears her step towards the chair just as he begins to retake his seat on the edge of the mattress. By the time he sits down and looks up, she’s settled on the chair just in front of him, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together, staring intently into the floor.

They sit in silence.

A minute passes. Then another. Then another.

He regards her as she appears lost in thought, churning with inner storm of worry, frustration, and exhaustion. She never looks up at him but continues to stare at the floor, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, finally breaking the silence. She abruptly sucks in a breath and sits up, crossing her arms.

“I should be asking you that question,” she says irritably, glancing over at him. “You’re the one who must have been feeling vulnerable, enough for the bond to bring me here.” He bristles, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, instinctively hardening against her interest in this.

But suddenly, something occurs to him. And not for the first time.

He purses his lips thoughtfully and straightens in his seat.

“You know…” he muses slowly, cautiously, “I think that works both ways.” She knits her eyebrows, not catching his meaning. He shifts on the bed to face her directly, staring at her with an even gaze. “I think the bond brings us together when we’re _both_ feeling vulnerable, at the same time.”

At this, she immediately uncrosses her arms and scoots back in her chair, looking up towards the ceiling, already nodding her head. Clearly, this has occurred to her as well. After several seconds of thought, she sits up straight, bringing her shoulders back and down.  

“I think you’re right,” she says decisively. “And I think…” she pauses, sliding her jaw to the side, leery of what she’s about to say next. She sighs heavily.

“I think it might help if we start sharing what we were thinking of just before the bond happens.” She glances at him, reluctant yet resolved. “If we can learn what triggers it, maybe we’ll start to understand it better.” He stiffens and looks away, the briefest flash of panic seizing his chest.

He _does not_ want to do this. Especially considering what was on his mind before she got here. Maybe he can figure out a way around it. He needs to buy himself some time…

“You first,” he says abruptly, looking over at her. She immediately rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“ _Why?_ ” She demands.

“Because you’re the one who came up with the idea,” he replies curtly. “And…” his voice trails off as his eyes drift downward. He twitches his jaw. “You’re better at this than I am,” he admits quietly. He doesn’t look up but he hears her sigh, annoyed but accepting of this.

Silence settles back over the room.

He continues to stare at the floor for a minute, still leaning over, his forearms resting on his knees. He glances up when he hears Rey shift in the chair.

She’s now in the exact same position he’s in, mirroring him. Her eyes are turned down, her head bobbing gently from side to side as she collects her thoughts, considers how to begin. She breathes in deeply then releases in a steady stream, her lips blowing out as she does.

“I have a friend,” she finally starts. “A very new friend, but someone I’ve become quite close to.”   

“A new recruit?” He asks, mostly to confirm. She tenses, growing guarded. She glances up at him with suspicion in her eyes.

“Yes,” she answers reluctantly. She hardens her jaw, suddenly hesitant to continue.

“Rey, I’ve told you I have no interest in interfering with the Resistance,” he reminds her firmly. “I have bigger matters to attend to, and in time, it will die out on its own without me having to lift a finger.” She immediately scoffs, rolling her eyes. She looks over at him caustically as if to challenge this but stops herself, instead choosing only to shake her head in irritation and move on.

“My friend,” she continues, “is very smart and highly skilled, one of our most valuable recruits. And more than that…” her voice trails off, a pained registering on expression on her face. “She’s a good person,” she says earnestly. “She has a heart for people in chains. Her mom died in slavery. She’s driven to free _as many_ slaves as she possibly can. I think it’s noble.” He listens quietly, letting her speak without interruption.

“But…” she goes on, casting her gaze downward. “She’s not perfect,” she lowers her voice as she says this. “She’s reckless and a bit of a gambler. And a few days ago, she got into an altercation with…” she pauses to take a deep breath. “Riker Vos,” she says the name heavily, looking up at him, clearly waiting for a reaction.

He’s not sure what she expects him to do. His eyes drift to the ceiling as he searches his mind. The name sounds vaguely familiar…

“ _Do you not know who that is?_ ” She asks him in disbelief, gaping as she sits up in her seat. “He’s one of the most hated crime lords in the outer rim. He’s run the Mardos Syndicate for over two decades, has entire Minos Cluster under his thumb. He _completely_ controls Corlassi and _everything_ that passes through the Rimma Trade Route. He’s a slaver, runs all kinds of illegal markets, and is infamous for being absolutely _brutal_.” As she speaks, she looks at him expectantly, like he should be getting closer to recognizing the man with each new detail she divulges. He vaguely remembers General DeVries mentioning something about the Mardos Syndicate at some point….

He purses his lips and continues to look upward, trying to piece together the memory.

“Never mind.” Rey sighs, clearly exasperated. “All you have to know is that he’s a very powerful and ruthless person.” She shakes her head a bit, refocusing back on her main point. “So, my friend encountered this man a few days ago. Well,” she pauses, “not so much encountered as… specifically sought out. She has a vendetta against him. It’s complicated.” She waves her hand dismissively. “The fact is that she challenged him to a game of Sabacc. If she won, he’d have to free all of his slaves. If he won, she’d owe him the collective value of the slaves.” Rey exhales heavily, dropping her shoulders. “She lost.”

She leans forward and begins to rub her hands together anxiously. Kylo feels a complex mixture of frustration, fear, and compassion overwhelm her all at once.

“It doesn’t help that she has a flair for mockery and apparently didn’t hold back.” She shakes her head like a parent lamenting the misbehavior of a child. “Now he’s after her. And I mean _after_ her. He’s got a price on her head that you wouldn’t _believe_.” She looks over at him, widening her eyes for emphasis. “And because she’s associated with the Resistance, he’s targeting all of us as well to get to her, putting every one of us in danger.” Rey closes her eyes and hangs her head, her spirits sinking low, low enough to be called despair. Her emotions are so strong, he feels them as though they were his own. He feels how much she cares for this girl, how terrified she is for her.

“Poe was furious.” She says this at a near whisper. “He even threatened to deliver her to Vos himself.” A cold pang of fear cuts through her. “He didn’t mean it, of course.” She glances up at him briefly, her eyes sure but her heart uncertain. She looks back down, bringing a thumb up to graze her lower lip nervously as she bores holes into the floor with intense eyes.

Kylo watches her silently for a few moments. Then he sits up and folds his arms across his chest. He takes a slow inhale, processing what she’s told him, considering his next words carefully. She won’t want to hear this… but she needs to.

“Maybe he’s right,” he says quietly. She looks up, eyebrows furrowed. “This Poe,” he continues, “maybe he should hand the girl over. That sounds like the easiest way to get out of the situation.”

Rey immediately shoots out of her chair, her eyes wide with fury. “Are you _kidding me_?” She demands, raising her voice. “What about _loyalty_? We have a responsibility to this girl.” She charges forward wildly, then stops on a dime. “We can’t just throw her out to the beasts.” Rey’s shouting now, gesturing emphatically. “She was misguided, but she was trying to do a good thing. What kind of organization would we be if we just cast our members aside whenever they got in the slightest trouble?” She finishes angrily, crossing her arms and looking down at him as though demanding an answer to this.

He purses his lips, glancing briefly away then back at her. “This situation sounds several degrees beyond _slight_ trouble,” he says, raising a knowing eyebrow. Rey drops her arms, pushing out an exhale like she’s releasing fumes.

“I don’t care what kind of trouble it is,” she insists, taking another step forward, her eyes boring into his. “When we accepted this girl, we promised to take care of her. That _has_ to mean something. A pledge of loyalty _has_ to mean something.” She steps forward again, her arms flying out on either side of her. He finds himself leaning back slightly in his seat, the force of her convictions, the fire of absolute certainty, seeming to hit him like an explosive blast.

Suddenly, she sighs and buries her face in her palms, turning and walking away to the other end of the room. “I can’t believe I’m still arguing about this.” She says this more to herself than to him, her voice muted by her palms. She slides her hands over her face as her head drops back, turning up to the ceiling. “And with _you_ of all people.” Rey spits the reference to him out like a curse. She continues to look up the ceiling for another second then hangs her head, crossing her arms, her back still to him. “ _Of course_ someone like _you_ would say to dump her in Vos’s lap.”

At this, Kylo’s heart drops and a familiar cold fear begins to creep over his senses. He sits perfectly still, frozen for a few moments. Finally, he moves, twitching his jaw and leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees again. He looks at the floor. Neither he nor Rey speak for a minute.

As the seconds tick by in silence, he mulls over her situation. He thinks about the way she felt when she got here, the way she feels right now. Angry. Frayed. Exhausted. Heartsick.

Maybe this isn’t the time to give advice. Maybe this is the time to just listen.

“I’ve been fighting about this for _hours_ ,” she breaks the silence abruptly, her head bowed and her back still to him. “The base is like a minefield right now. My friends, my _family_ …” her voice breaks at this last word. “They’re at each other’s throats. I’m so _sick_ of it.” She covers her eyes with a hand, holding back tears.

Kylo observes her quietly for a few moments, not sure what to do, what to say. He feels his heart twist with a new kind of pain, the pain of knowing how broken she feels but not having a damn idea of what to do about it, how to make it stop.

Finally, he rises from his seat. He walks towards her slowly. She tenses slightly at his approach, and he stops, standing only a couple of feet behind her. He takes a measured breath.

“What can I do?” He intones quietly.

Suddenly, she whips around, squinting up at him with curiosity and not a little surprise.

“Nothing,” she shrugs her shoulders, intrigued by his offer, like she didn’t expect such a thing from him. She studies him for several seconds before looking away and shaking her head.    

“We’re not handing her over to Vos. Poe’s just angry, not thinking straight. Worst comes to worst, the General will have to get involved.” She glances up at him briefly at this reference to his mother.

He doesn’t react, his face impassive, and she looks down, hugging her arms tightly around her body. She still churns with worry and is heavy with a deep exhaustion, as much mental as physical. She closes her eyes and lets out a long exhale, hunching her shoulders as she does.

“I’ve never felt you like this before,” he observes in a low voice. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do…” He hesitates. “For you?” He finishes cautiously. She grunts softly and looks up at him with a sad smile. She shakes her head slightly in answer to him, yet before she looks down, something flashes across her eyes like a shooting star, a thought, so fleeting it barely registers on her face.

As she begins to turn away from him, he’s seized by a sudden impulse. Without thinking, he reaches inside her mind, chasing and retrieving the thought before it vanishes.  

She immediately gasps and turns her back to him, walking several steps away.

In any normal circumstance, she’d be yelling at him right about now, admonishing him for entering her mind without being invited.

But she’s far too embarrassed about what he saw to do that…

He regards her softly, a strong wave of tenderness overtaking him. He’s surprised by what he saw, her secret, internal answer to his offer to help her. He’s also struck by it, struck with a deep sense of compassion.

He walks towards her carefully. She flinches a bit, feeling self-conscious, almost ashamed.

He stands behind her in silence for a moment. Then he reaches out for her shoulder and turns her around gently to face him. She doesn’t look up, her cheeks pink with a warm blush. He gazes down at her, his hand still at her shoulder, before pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

At first, she’s awkward and stiff, reluctant to let her guard down. But she soon relaxes, her muscles slowly softening, releasing all of their tension. Her arms loosen around her body, then circle him, traveling along his sides and then to his back. He squeezes gently as she does this, tightening his hold, sliding one hand up to cup the back of her head.

She starts to cry quietly. Her shoulders heave, lightly at first but then more heavily as she progresses to full on sobbing. She tightens her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder, letting go completely, melting into him, into his body heat, pouring out all of her fear and anxiety in tears on the fabric of his shirt.

He tightens his hold on her, seeming to draw her more deeply into him. As he does, he feels the storm of worry churning inside her begin to die down and eventually die out altogether. She surrenders herself completely to his warm embrace, her sobs slowly diminishing as she slips into a contented peace, a kind of inward quiet that can only be achieved by becoming completely lost in someone else.

He closes his eyes and buries his lips in her hair, breathing in her scent.   

He understands why she needs this. He never knew it before he met her, but the truth is, he needs it too. The sensation of another human body against his, the warmth, the heartbeat, the steady breathing, the rhythm of someone else’s life and blood, so similar to his own. To become lost in it, almost synchronize with it to the point of merging into a single being. To experience genuine closeness, the utter banishment of all loneliness.

It’s like a kind of medicine, the healing touch of another person, especially one you share a connection with. He’d forgotten about it, long lost memories of his mother’s attentive care, he father’s gentle hands. For years, he’s most of his days covered from head to toe in black, armored against skin to skin contact, the warmth of human touch.

He never realized how much he missed it. Not until he met Rey.

He sighs deeply, relishing the moment, in her giving herself over to him, the comfort of his warm body enclosed around her. He loses a sense of time, a sense of location, until she begins to pull away.

A part of him wants to resist, to not let her go, keep her right where she is.

But he ignores that part, albeit with no small effort. 

He loosens his arms as she drops her own from his back, lifting a hand to wipe a few stray tears from her eyes

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispers, shaking her head and looking down, starting to feel embarrassed again.

“Hey,” he says softly, bringing his hands to her face and slipping his fingers behind her neck, his thumbs at her cheeks. Her eyelashes flutter as she takes an uneven breath, struggling to look up at him.

Finally, her eyes drift up towards his, a bit guarded at first but soon captivated, drawn into his gaze so completely, so utterly, in that way that makes him feel like she’s already his, like he could lean down right now and press his lips against hers and she wouldn’t fight it at all. Only give in to him.

But now isn’t the right time for that.

He reigns in his desire, keeps it at bay. He only brushes back a few strands of hair from her cheek with his right hand, still gazing at her deeply.

“You’re lucky, remember?” He says, a corner of his lips turned up into an almost sly smile. “Things have a tendency to work out in your favor. I have feeling this will all go away before you know it.” She grunts softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. She nods her head a little, looking down, her body calm and filling with a sense of peace, accepting that things may not be as dire as they seem. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Finally, she glances up at him with sincere eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers. He only nods once in response, his expression solemn but gentle, then he drops his hands slowly from her face.

She takes a step back, looking away and inhaling deeply once more, her emotions steady and even-keeled, like he’s used to feeling her. She crosses her arms absently, closing her eyes and bowing her head, seeming to check in with herself, a brief exercise in meditation, noticing the change in her mind, in the way her body feels. He regards her silently as she stands before him like this for a few seconds. Suddenly, her eyes snap open and she looks up abruptly, like she just remembered something.

“Your turn,” she announces. He knits his eyebrows, not sure what she means. “I shared what I was thinking about just before the bond brought us together. Now, it’s your turn,” she repeats, already adopting a more upbeat tone.

_Damn it._

He was hoping she’d forget about that.

He sucks in a breath and turns away from her, walking towards his bed. He crosses his arms, staring intently downward, try to keep his mind as calm and blank as possible while also trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to tell her. 

He feels her interest pique behind him. He’s certain her Force-senses are heightened, attuned to the internal rhythm of his emotions. And though it worked out well, the fact that the he entered her mind without permission only a few minutes ago means she is _much_ more likely to do the same to him, _especially_ if she thinks he’s lying to her.  

He needs to find a way to tell her the truth without telling her the whole truth.

He sighs heavily, his chest tight with a pinch of anxiety, considering what he can say.  

And then it hits him.

His shoulders drop and his head hangs slightly. He still stands with his back to Rey, a strong wave of regret overcoming him, weighing him down.

She waits silently behind him, eager to hear him speak but also patient. She doesn’t press him or goad him in any way. She gives him all the space he needs, time to process, to think.

He stands, perfectly still, for a few more seconds before dropping his arms at his sides and squaring his shoulders. He looks up to the ceiling, taking a measured inhale, then letting it out slowly.

“I was thinking…” He begins but immediately stops. He twitches his jaw. “I was thinking about the last thing I said to you. In the training room,” he admits quietly. He feels recognition and a little surprise wash over her.

They both stand in silence for a minute. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move. He only reviews the memory in his mind, pictures the image— him yelling in her face and her head jerking back, the shock, the hurt in her eyes, how she looked away when she began to well with tears. And the coldness descends upon him again, the harsh reality of the kind of man he is and the kind of woman she is, the chasm of difference between these two things, a yawning gap much too large to ever bridge.

He clenches his fists, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

Suddenly, he hears her walk towards him from behind. Her steps are slow but steady. She stops right next to him. He can feel her watching him, studying him with quiet interest, a strange kind of yearning in her heart.

He’s surprised when he feels her fingers brush against his clenched fist. He loosens it, opening his eyes and turning his head towards her. She slips her palm into his and squeezes his hand gently, looking up at him with solemn eyes.

“I forgive you,” she says softly.

He can’t help but flinch slightly at this. His instinct is to doubt, to pull away, to assume a lack of sincerity. But grating against this instinct is the bond, the connection he shares with Rey, the one that fills him with exactly how much she means what she says.  

And just like that, the heavy burden lifts from his shoulders.

She squeezes his hand again and smiles up at him reassuringly. He looks down at her, half in awe, half in gratitude. As she gazes up at him with those clear, brown eyes, he feels her well with that warm glow, pulsing gently, steadily, like a second heartbeat. It overcomes him, fills his senses, travels through his veins breathing life into him.

He focuses on this feeling, loses himself in it, so much so that when she suddenly disappears before his eyes, it feels as though she took a part of him with her, the emotion coursing through her so abruptly ripped away.

He catches his breath, his lungs ceasing to function for a second, before he regains control. He breathes in deeply, a strong surge of oxygen, as he adjusts to her absence, the warmth of her touch still imprinted on his hand. He looks down at his open palm for a moment, as though he could still see traces of her there. As he does, a smile creeps across his lips.

He was right the first time.

What he felt in her when she healed him in the training room, what he felt in her not one minute ago… That’s not compassion. He knows what that feels like. No, this is something else, something deeper.

He closes his hand, still looking at it for a moment, remembering the emotion she transmitted through her touch, through the bond. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, still half disbelieving but starting to accept it, accept the experience for what it is, against all logic, against all odds.

Yes, he was definitely right the first time. And he _can’t wait_ until she realizes it for herself.

Of course, whether that happens sooner rather than later will partially depend on him, on his actions, how he behaves towards her.

Suddenly, he straightens, bringing his shoulders back and down. He strides briskly to his closet on the other side of the room and grabs his master comm that he placed on a nearby surface. He brings it up to his lips, pressing a button on the side.

“Tell the generals I want to meet with them in one hour,” he commands curtly into the comm. A few seconds pass before a reply crackles from the other end.

“Tonight, sir?” The operator sounds confused. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I said _one hour_ ,” he repeats through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, of course, sir,” the operator responds immediately. “Shall I say what the meeting is about?”

“Tell them we’re changing the target of the invasion,” he says decisively. “We’re not starting with the Zidon gang in the Salient system. We’re starting with the Merdos Syndicate in the Minos Cluster.”

“Will do straight away, sir.” The comm crackles then goes silent. He places it back down then pulls his thin undershirt up and over his head, casting it to the side and reaching into his closet to begin redressing. 

The generals won’t understand this. If the Minos Cluster hasn’t come up much in meetings, it’s for a reason. The region must not be rich in natural resources, at least not any the First Order needs. They’ll protest, say we need to focus on the systems with Varium and other precious minerals.

But ultimately, it’s not up to them.

They’ll get to Salient soon enough. It’s not as though the First Order has a pressing need to get the Varium _right now_. There’s not an entity in the galaxy that even comes _close_ to threatening their power, not at the current moment nor in the immediate future. 

And the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of beginning these outer rim invasions by taking out a criminal organization that is _truly_ hated. If the Merdos Syndicate is half of what Rey says it is, then this move should win local support as well as the support of the galaxy at large. Better to start by inspiring loyalty rather than creating a pocket of rebellion risk.

After he finishes dressing, he strides over to the other end of the room, sweeping up his mask and pulling it overhead, clicking it into place. He turns towards the door and presses a panel, charging out into the hall with purposeful steps. As he walks swiftly forward, he smiles to himself inside his mask.

Yes, this is the right decision, one that considers the long term, building a reputation that will facilitate his consolidation power throughout the galaxy.

The fact that this Riker Vos person is about to become _much_ too preoccupied to worry about a girl who humiliated him over a card game is just a fringe benefit.

Of course, he can’t help but picture it in his mind as he strides forward, the look on Rey’s face when she hears the news, hears that her friend is free from danger because of _him_ , because of what he did.

And as he pictures this in his mind, as he imagines a broad smile spreading across her face, a swell of utter relief in her chest, something changes within him, something subtle but significant. Deep down in his subconscious where his unnamed hopes and fears lie, that fundamental belief— the belief that he’s unlovable— cracks, a small piece of it breaking off and dissolving away into nothing.   


	18. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission to rescue a Resistance recruiter from execution by a local crime lord goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a submission to the #Reyloweeklychallenge hosted by the Two Halves of Reylo tumblr blog. The theme for this week is "escape." Two Halves of Reylo is also an AO3 collection for cannon-compliant Reylo works. When you're done reading, visit the collection for more Reylo stories!

Rey regains consciousness slowly, her mind coming back to life in spurts and stops, like an engine that hasn’t been turned on in years.

The first thing she notices is the throbbing pain in the back of her head, the result of a swift and unexpected impact, the last thing she remembers.

The second thing she notices is that she’s moving.

Two figures pull her along roughly, one on either side of her, gripping her upper arms tightly and dragging her heels across an uneven surface.   

She’s blindfolded but she can smell that she must be in some sort of earthy, underground structure. It’s dank and musty with the distinct scent of grimy pools of water that haven’t seen the light of day in centuries.

Just as the fog begins to clear from her mind, she hears what sounds like the clanging of keys. A heavy door swings open and the large hands thrust her bruskly forward. She lands flat on her back on a cold, damp surface. She sits up immediately, a hand flying up to remove the blindfold, but the door slams shut just as she slips it off.

One of the figures beats what looks like a metal rod against a small, grated opening near the top of the door.

“Keep quiet in there, girl,” a man’s voice commands gruffly. “If I don’t hear you, you won’t see me. And trust me when I tell you, sweetheart…” He hunches over, bringing his lips closer to the opening, “You _don’t_ wanna see me. _Ever_.” He lingers menacingly for a moment before pulling away and beating the door with his metal rod once more for good measure. She listens as two pairs of boots stride casually away.

Rey waits until she hears them fade out completely.

Then she scrambles towards the door, crouching just in front of it, inspecting the lock.

This is difficult. There isn’t much light. Just a faint stream drifting in through the grated opening. But she can see well enough to tell that this won’t be an easy lock to pick. Maybe impossible…

Sheer, cold fear seizes her chest.

It’s not that she’s not worried about getting out of here. She’ll figure that out eventually.

But she is _very much_ worried she won’t get out of here in time to rescue the Resistance recruiter who’s set to be executed within the hour. _That’s_ what has her heart thumping and her pulse racing. 

Rey whips around, quickly taking in her surroundings, still feeling slightly woozy, a dull aching at the back of her head.

It looks like she’s in a cave that’s been converted into a jail cell. The only sign of anything manmade is the door. There’s a rocky wall just to her right, but the cave stretches out to her left, extending into darkness.

She closes her eyes and begins hobbling towards the dark, still crouched, reaching out with her Force senses.

There must be _something_ here. Something she can use to pick the lock.

She inches forward deliberately, one palm stretched out, hovering just above the earth, sweeping over its damp surface. She continues like this for a minute until she reaches another wall, then turns, creeping along next to it.

Suddenly, she stops.

She lowers her hand to feel something hard and slender. She grips it and tugs violently, snapping it free from an unknown base. She crawls quickly out of the darkness and into the faint stream of light, bringing up her palm to inspect her find.

She immediately sucks in a breath and lowers her hand.

It’s the bone of a human finger.

She shudders, letting out an uneven exhale. She closes her eyes briefly, then crawls back towards the door. She settles in front of it, examining the lock closely. There’s only one opening on it, at the top left.

And it’s too small for the finger to fit into.

She falls back on her calves, tossing the bone angrily to the right. She bows her head and covers her eyes with her hand, cold fear gripping her chest once more.

Rey tries to take in a slow, deep inhale, but it chokes through as a thin, half-breath. She sputters it out, shaking her head, her hand still covering her eyes. She fights to take in another breath, then another, each one a little steadier than the last.

She needs to _calm down_.

But in the same instant that she tells herself this, she can’t help but curse Poe inwardly.

If he’d just _listened_ to her, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

She’s the one who suggested they find a back way into Clava’s palace, sneak in at the docks where local pirates and slavers deliver their goods. They could be quiet, blend in, find their man then whisk him away well before his execution was set to begin.

But _no_. Poe insisted it would be too heavily guarded, impossible to get in and out without being seen. Instead, they should take a more unexpected, _unconventional_ tact, go straight into the belly of the beast, infiltrate Clava’s court dressed as pleasure slaves, ambush the guards just before they delivered their man to The Boss himself, sweep him over the edge of open deck and onto the Falcon, then blast off into the sky.

 _I’ve seen you fight_ , he says. _You’ll thrash the palace guard and I’ll snatch our guy right from under them_ , he says.

Maybe that would have worked. They’ll never know. Because not ten minutes after sneaking into Clava’s court, a Durosi man recognized Poe and immediately attacked. She was so caught off guard that she dove right into the fray, completely forgetting about the man who’d been trailing behind her, eyeing her suspiciously since she arrived. He was _ready_. And she was distracted.

One swift jab to the back of her head and she was out.  

And now she has no idea how long it’s been, how long she has before their rescue— what’s his name? Simon?— has until he’s brought to Clava for execution.

Rey pushes out a frenzied exhale, bringing the base of her palm to her forehead.

How long did they have before this whole mess started?

She shivers a little as she manically searches her mind, bringing her hands up to rub her bare shoulders. She wishes, not for the first time today, that she were wearing real clothes. 

What she’s wearing right now really isn’t all that different from something she used to wear almost every day on Jakku. Two strips of fabric, smooth and deep red, draped over each shoulder to cross snugly at her chest and back, clinched in place with a brown belt at her waist. It’s long, extending down to her ankles.

But that’s pretty much it. Excepting a pair of knee high boots and gold underwear.

Her sides are completely exposed. And no matter how much she tugs at the fabric across her chest, she can’t keep her breasts from peeking out one way or the other.

She’s going to stick out like a sore thumb in this part of the palace. She’ll need to find a change of clothes. Though she may be too crunched for time to take the subtle approach. Poe may just get his thrashing of the palace guard after all…

Then it hits her.

Fifty minutes.

That was it. The last time she checked the time. And that was less than five minutes before the Durosi recognized Poe, no more than five minutes _at least_.  

So, she’s probably been out for… ten minutes? She’ll guess fifteen minutes to be safe. Thirty minutes until the execution.

She shakes her head briskly, bringing herself back into the present, refocusing on the priority of the moment— the lock.

She whips to the right, crawling towards the darkness for the bone she cast aside earlier. Maybe she can file it down somehow? She extends her hand, not searching for long before she finds it surrounded by stray pebbles. She crawls back into the light, eyes shooting up then down, from the right to the left, hunting for anything that could be used as a file.

Suddenly, she stops dead, still as a statue.

Despite her frenzied state, she feels it the instant it hits. That warm feeling welling in her core.

_Oh no._

_No, no._

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no._

Rey gasps and closes her eyes, bowing her head and bringing a clenched fist to her forehead. She tries to take in a measured inhale, then another, then another.

_Don’t fight the bond. Don’t fight the bond. If it’s happening now, it’s for a reason. Don’t fight the bond. Don’t fight the bond._

Yet, as she repeats this to herself, frustration rises like a volcanic blast her chest.

_But why right now? Right now!? **Right NOW!?**_

She grits her teeth and braces herself. She can’t even _imagine_ what his reaction will be…

Before she has time to consider this, she feels his presence to the right of her. She exhales slowly, keeping her eyes closed, her head bowed, clenched fist still at her forehead as she crouches in front of the lock.

The cell is silent.

Rey waits, unmoving, her nerves on edge. She feels him cycle through several levels of shock, blended with something else she can’t quite identify. Mostly, he’s just shocked.

She huffs out an exasperated sigh, dropping her fist and turning her head towards him with a hardened expression. He’s standing just where the light meets the dark in the cave, gaping at her with wide eyes. She’s never seen his emotions so outwardly transparent. He’s usually so good at maintaining a cold exterior.

But not right now.

“ _What_ …?” He finally spits out a word but has trouble continuing. He takes a step forward, hunching down to inspect her more closely as if to make sure that what he’s seeing is real. “ _is going on here?_ ” He spits out the rest of the sentence with a mixture of fury and concern.

“What _the hell_ are you wearing? Where is this? Is this a prison? Are you in a damn—”

Rey lunges towards him, whipping an index finger to her lips, shushing him and violently gesturing him away from the door.

But it’s too late.

She hears a pair of boots approaching distantly in the hall.

“Boji scum!” The guard from earlier yells out gruffly as he walks towards her cell. “That’s not you I hear, is it!?”

Without thinking, she shoves Ben with both hands towards the darkness and he staggers back. She turns and darts to the grated opening just in time to see the guard stop at the cell across from her and beat his metal rod against the door.

“Do you need another beating?” The guard taunts the prisoner with a sadistic undertone, seeming to take pleasure in the prospect.

Nothing in response.

The guard lingers, breathing heavily, broad shoulders hunched, peering into her neighbor’s cell. Finally, he turns, casting a glance towards her cell.

She immediately drops to the ground, crouching.

He takes a few steps. His heavy breath gets closer, closer... She can feel his eyes on her. She scrunches her shoulders into her ears and stares intently downward.

Finally, she hears him turn and begin to make his way back down the hall, the sound of his boots gradually fading away.

Rey waits, perfectly still, until the sound disappears completely. Then she waits a few more seconds for good measure.

She releases a slow exhale, twisting her body to the right, searching.

But there’s nothing. Only darkness.

She creeps towards it, still crouched, tilting her head and squinting her eyes to focus.

“Ben?” She whispers, inching forward.

He sighs heavily. Then he emerges from the shadows, shaking his head.

He starts to say something but she instantly brings and index finger to her lips and gestures emphatically for him to crouch down next to her. His eyes flit upwards in annoyance, then he descends, kneeling down beside her in the faint light. He has that patronizing look, the one he gets right before he talks down to her as if she were his troublesome student. He opens his mouth to speak again, but she cuts him off.

“I don’t have time for a lecture,” she whispers furiously. “I’m on a rescue mission, I have thirty minutes until my target is executed, and the bond obviously brought you here to help. So, I need you to search this cell for something I can use to pick the lock. That or—”

“Wait a minute. Back up.” He raises a hand, closing his eyes and opening them again. “Where is this? You’re rescuing who from what?”

“That _doesn’t matter_ , Ben,” she seethes through gritted teeth. “All you need to know is that someone’s life is on the line and I’m running out of time. Help now. Talk later.” He immediately shakes his head.

“No.” He whispers, pursing his lips. “I’m not doing anything until I get more information.”

“ _Are you kidding me!?_ ” She spits out in disbelief, raising her voice without realizing it. “What do you not understand about a rescue mission. Execution. _Thirty minutes!?_ ” Suddenly, she jerks back, clapping a hand over her mouth, catching herself as she gets louder.

She ducks down, still crouched, her senses heightened, listening. She creeps towards the door, hearing the faint sound of footsteps approaching in the distance. They stop at the end of the hall. A few seconds pass. Then they continue onwards.

Rey lets out an exhale, not realizing she was holding it in. She shakes her head briskly, refocusing. She feels Ben watching her from behind. She twists around to face him.

She immediately straightens, surprised, her cheeks aflame in an instant.

She recognizes that look. She’s been getting it from men all day, eyes slaking over her body as if she were a meal and they were _starving_. But there’s something about getting it from him makes her blush...

She looks away, cheeks growing hotter, feeling _intensely_ self-conscious. But embarrassment soon melts away into anger.

She crawls forward quickly, stopping just in front of him. She cocks her head, jaw hardened, eyes boring into his with an unspoken admonishment. He stares back at her, not even having the decency to look ashamed of himself.

“ _Ben_ ,” She hisses at him furiously. “A man is going to die in _thirty minutes_.” She leans in closer. “I don’t have time to fill you in on the details. Are you going to help me or not?” She raises her eyebrows.

He looks at her evenly, back to his typical cold exterior. She glares at him as he takes several _long_ seconds to consider his answer. Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but firm.

“I want to know where you are, who the man is, and why he’s being executed,” he demands. “Then I’ll help you.” She sucks in a breath, narrowing her eyes in anger.

But she doesn’t have time to keep fighting about this.

She sits back on her calves, crossing her arms tightly, keeping her gaze trained on him all the while.

“I’m in the Vagadarr system on the planet Castell,” she begins barely above a whisper. “The man’s name is Simon, one of our recruiters. He made the mistake of recruiting several people who turned out to be slaves of a local crime lord, Clava the Bando. That means “boss” in these parts. Apparently, he has very strong opinions about slavery and is known to dole out the harshest punishment to anyone who dares to interfere with slaving in any way. This is his palace, his prison.” She tilts her head sharply. “Satisfied?” She raises an expectant eyebrow, squirming inwardly with impatience.

He stares at her silently for a few seconds before his gaze begins to drift downward, his eyebrows knitting together. He starts shaking his head.

“Why the hell are you wearing _that_?” He raises his voice at the last word and she immediately lunges towards him, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“This wasn’t my idea,” she hisses. “Poe was the one who insisted we infiltrate the court as pleasure slaves and surprise them.” Her hand slides away. “I would have snuck in through the back.”

“Poe,” he spits out the name, his eyes sharpening into a cutting glare. “Again.” He cocks his head. “This Poe’s going to get you killed one day.” His face descending closer to hers for emphasis.

“I don’t have time for this.” She turns abruptly, dropping her hands to the damp earth and crawling forward, searching for the bone. “If you’re not going to help, fine. Just stay out of my way,” she warms him in a hushed tone.

She finds the bone quickly, then crawls towards the door to inspect the lock one more time. Ben watches her as she does. She can feel his eyes scanning her body. She tries to ignore him, but can’t stop from growing increasingly infuriated. _Not only_ is he refusing to help….

She’s on the verge of whipping around to lash out at him when she suddenly hears him move towards her.

“You do realize you don’t need a tool to pick that lock,” he says quietly, sidling next to her. “You can use the Force.” Immediately, she jerks around to face him.

“ _You’re just telling me this now!_ ” She hisses, eyes wide with disbelief. “Well, _go on_.” She demands at a whisper, gesturing wildly at the lock. “ _Open it!_ ” He narrows his eyes.

“Do it yourself,” he says matter-of-factly, nodding towards the door.

“ _Ben._ ” She says his name breathlessly, dropping her shoulders. “I don’t have time for a lesson. Just _do it_ ,” she insists, growing panicked.

“No.” He shakes his head, _infuriatingly_ calm despite the urgency of the situation. “You won’t learn anything that way.”

She buries her face in her palms, fighting back a wave of desperation. “ _Please_ ,” she begs, sliding her palms down. “You can teach me _later_. If I don’t get out of here soon, a man is going _to die_.” Hot tears push at the back of her eyes.

“Which is exactly why right now is the perfect time to learn,” he whispers back decisively. “Especially for you.”

“What do you mean especially for me?”

“I mean you seem to learn by relying on instinct, not training.” He leans towards her, eyes flashing with a strange kind of glimmer. “Like when you healed me in the training room. You’d never done that before, had you?” She shakes her head wordlessly. “Then how did you do it?”

She immediately looks away, quickly running through a catalogue in her mind, the observations that stick out the most in the time she’s spent lying awake at night, thinking about that moment.

The truth is she didn’t quite know what she was doing, even while she was doing it. She didn’t act with intention. Well… at least not one she could articulate. She has no idea if she could even do it again.

Suddenly, Ben interrupts her thoughts, grabbing her wrist and lifting her hand up towards the lock.

“What you did then,” he starts, dark eyes still fixed on hers, “do _now_. Close your eyes,” he commands curtly. “Focus on the energy of the moment. Let _that_ be your teacher.”

Rey tenses, hardening her jaw. Part of her wants to resist, to jerk her arm away and rip into him for suggesting she experiment with her Force abilities at a time like this. But a deeper part of her can’t kick the feeling…

She can’t explain how she knows, but…. She knows.

This is the reason why he’s here today.

So, she closes her eyes and disappears into her own mind, her own body, disappears into the energy filling the space around her, surging through her. She opens her right palm hovering just in front of the lock. Ben loosens his grip and drops his hand from her wrist.

“Picture the inside of the lock like I know you’ve already been doing,” he whispers. “Picture the mechanisms, all the individual parts and how they work together.”

She does. She’s mapping out the inside of the lock in her mind’s eye. Before, it was just conjecture, how she imagined the lock _might_ work based on her previous experiences. But the more she loses herself in the Force, the more she starts to see it, _really_ see it. She’s piecing everything together, _exactly_ where it all is… there’s the cylinder… the strike plate… the key pins…

She can see it. Now she just needs to move it.

But this isn’t like lifting rocks. The movements here need to be very precise. And she’s never attempted such fine movements through her Force senses before…  

Rey sucks in a breath, a wave of urgency seizing her chest.

“ _Use that_.” She suddenly hears Ben whisper, his lips just next to her ear. “Use your impatience, how you feel like you need to get this done _right now_.”

She does. She surrenders to the urgency wracking her body, putting her nerves on edge. In doing so, she grows inexplicably calm, a contradiction, like a loss of control that feels so natural it’s comforting.

And just like that, everything snaps into focus.

She reaches into the lock with invisible fingers, teasing one key pin up, then another, then another…

 _Click_.

Rey’s eyes fly open to find the door in front of her slightly ajar.

“I did it!” She exclaims, snapping her head around to face Ben. Then she immediately claps a hand over her mouth, the horrible realization hitting her at once.

She yelled that so loudly that her voice reverberated down the hall.

A second later, two pairs of footsteps approach swiftly in the distance.

“ _Girl!_ ” The guard from earlier belts out, beginning to charge towards her cell. “Is that you I keep hearing down there?!”

In a panic, she pushes the door closed, dying a little inside when she hears the lock latch back into place. Then she whips towards Ben.

“ _Go now!_ ” She hisses, gesturing wildly to the darkness. “And _don’t_ do anything. Just _be quiet_.” She pushes him away before he has a chance to react.

“ _Go!_ ” She repeats. He shoots her a look, but he doesn’t say anything, instead turning to disappear into the darkness just as the sound of keys clang against the door. Rey rises and backs several steps away before it swings open.

Light from the hallway pours into the cell and she quickly glances to the right to check for Ben.

The cave is partially illuminated, a few more feet of rocky earth visible, but the corners are still shrouded in blackness.

She looks forward to see a very large, broad-shouldered man duck to enter the cell, and another, shorter man follow behind him. They’re both well-muscled, each with strange markings, tiny bumps etched all across their arms and chests into some sort of pattern she can’t quite identify. The first man is bald with a head that seems too small for his massive body and the second man appears to be missing part of his nose, patchy, red flesh pulled back, leaving his right nostril exposed.

Both men grip long, metal rods.

The taller man stops just before her, cocking his head as he scans her up and down slowly, languidly. His lips twist into a smirk just as his eyes reach her face.

“You look like trouble.” He leans down, descending close enough for her to feel his foul breath on her face as the second guard circles behind her. “Are you trouble, girl?” There’s a sinister twinkle in his eye.  

Rey stiffens, hardening her jaw. She juts her chin up defiantly, her gaze piercing, unwavering.

Silence.

Her Force-senses are heightened, so much so it’s as if she can see the whole room. She knows exactly how far away the second guard is from her back. She senses his movements, the twitching of his hand, how he’s leaning slightly to the right. He feels excited, but he’s waiting, waiting to follow the first guard’s lead…

The taller man in front of her takes a step back, scanning her up and down once more. Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

She is _so sick_ of getting that look today.

“You know…” He begins slyly, taking a couple of steps around her, leaning over to get a better look at her backside. “Normally we’d give a noisy prisoner like you a good beating.” He repositions himself just in front of her, looking down with that same smirk. “But I have a feeling that when Clava gets a good look at you, he’s gonna say you’ve found your calling.” He gives her a knowing nod, and she grits her teeth. “Wouldn’t want to damage the goods, now would we?” He winks at her, taking a step forward, pushing her back a step.

“You’re gonna make us _a lot_ of money.” His face descends towards hers, and she tenses, bracing herself.

This is about to get ugly.

But if she moves quickly, she can keep things quiet. The guard behind her is about to reach out to grab her and when he does, she’ll snatch the metal rod out of his other hand and give the fellow in front of her a good, swift strike to the head. The second guard will lunge towards her but—

Then, just as everything starts into motion, just as she feels the second guard’s hand extending towards her waist, the first guard’s hot breath on her cheeks, she hears a loud cry and a crack behind her.

She whips around to find the second guard unconscious in a tangled mass on the ground.

_Wait…_

She looks closer.

 _Is he…_ _dead?_

“What th—”

Before the first guard finishes the sentence, Rey hears him fly backwards towards the hallway. She turns around just in time to see his head smash against the top of doorframe on his way out, his neck snapping in two. He hits the door across from her cell with a loud clang, then lands with a thud on the ground.

For a moment, Rey just stares at him, gaping.

“ _Damn it, Ben!_ ” She yells out without thinking. “I told you not to _do anything!_ ”

She whips around to see him emerge from the shadows, black eyes fixed on the second guard’s body, boiling over with rage. She clenches her fists and lunges towards him.

“You didn’t have to _kill them_ ,” she hisses. He parts his lips to speak, but he stops abruptly, jerking his head towards the open door.

And she knows exactly why.

Because she hears it too.

Footsteps, _many_ of them, fading in quickly, rounding the corner of the hall just outside.

Her eyes widen and for a second, she shares a knowing look with Ben. Then she sighs heavily, dropping her shoulders.

There’s no use in trying to keep things quiet now.

Just as she hears the first guard enter the cell, Rey whips around and leaps into the air, wrapping her legs around him and jerking his head down by the hair. She immediately begins jabbing the sharp edge of her elbow down hard onto a soft spot at the back of his neck— _one-two-three-four-five-six_ strikes and he loses consciousness.

She dives into the hall as he crumples to the floor, eyes trained on a metal rod abandoned on the ground. When she grabs it, she immediately strikes hard at the back of a guard’s knee just beside her, bringing him down. Another strike to the back of the head, and he’s out.

She lunges forward, tumbling between a couple of guards and leaping forward to land on one of a trio behind them.

She strikes the guard on the back of the head then flips off of him, landing lightly and turning to lunge towards the other two, quickly ducking and striking hard at the side of one man’s knee then the other’s. The both stumble forward and Rey rises just as they hit the floor, whipping around to deliver two swift blows to their heads.

She looks forward, ready to take on more attackers, but no one’s in view.

Though with this much racket, reinforcements can’t be far behind...

She turns around to see Ben stepping over bodies littering the hallway, regarding them with a raised eyebrow. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he almost looked impressed.

“Come on,” she commands, gesturing for him to follow. She races to the end of the hall then crouches. There’s a small, make-shift lounge ending in a steep staircase just ahead, a long hall to the left, a half-open door to the right.

Rey closes her eyes, reaching out through the Force, mapping out the terrain in her mind’s eye. Poe’s somewhere in the labyrinth of cells to the left. She senses him… but she also senses the docks, the smell of the ocean to her right, and according to their intel, that’s where Simon will be. So that’s where she needs to go.

“There’s more coming,” Ben says as he kneels beside her.

“I know,” she responds without opening her eyes, still reaching out through the Force, concentrating on the sound of footsteps rumbling in the distance. Some will be coming down the steps just ahead, eight, ten maybe. But there’s more coming from the right. Fifteen _at least_ …

She opens her eyes, inhaling deeply. She turns to address Ben but stiffens when she catches him staring down at her body. She instantly snaps her fingers in his face.

“Eyes up here!”

He jerks back, looking up, having the decency to appear at least _slightly_ sheepish this time. She glares at him before gesturing to the stairs in front of her.

“Take out the ones just ahead, then come meet me. And _don’t_ kill anyone.” She rises, darting through the door to the right before he can respond.

She looks around the room as she enters, quickly taking in her surroundings. It’s a storehouse, quite large, long and expansive with a tall ceiling, but it’s mostly empty, nothing but towers of crates stacked along the walls and a few patches of rotten produce strewn across the ground.

Her head snaps to the door just across the way when she hears footsteps arrive on the other side. She immediately lifts a hand and Force-pushes a stack of crates in front of it as it starts to open. She dodges left, racing to the door. A guard grunts, struggling against a crate, then barges through only to be met with a swift blow to the back of the head.

The door flings wide open as several more guards charge through, a few with blasters but most with melee weapons. Rey meets them head on, gripping her metal rod and leaping into the air.

She strikes hard and fast, precise hits on the most vulnerable parts of the body— the back of the knees, the groin, the lower belly, the neck— anywhere that will disable her attackers without killing them. She falls naturally into a catch-me-if-you-can style of combat, flying and dodging, flipping and sliding, weaving between blaster fire and weapons clumsily flailing about.

Guard after guard charges into the fray and as she grows dramatically outnumbered, Rey begins Force-pushing stacks of crates lining the walls to the floor, knocking some of her attackers down and distracting others.

But she won’t be able to do this for long.

The room is filling with guards, more than she anticipated. There must be at least fifteen standing men in the room with more pouring through the door.

She seizes with panic as she backflips high into the air, landing on a tower of crates behind her.

Oh yeah. There’s definitely over twenty guards in here, soon to be twenty-five. She can’t take on this many by herself.

 _Where is Ben?_  

Then suddenly, it’s as if time freezes.

Everything stops— the sound, the motion, the energy, the frenzy, the panic. Everything.

Everything except for the memory of his voice in her head.  

“Focus on the energy of the moment. Let _that_ be your teacher.”

Without thinking, Rey drops her metal rod and leaps forward, high into the air. She lands crouching, dead center in the throng of guards. It seems like every single one of them lunges towards her at once as she rises, closing her eyes and extending both arms out beside her, palms open.

And she just lets it out, a flash of light that fills the room with blinding brightness for a split second, like she just conjured the sun out of nothing. A chorus of shrieks rip through the air and she opens her eyes.

She’s surrounded by guards on their knees, faces buried in their palms, hissing and crying out.

“ _I can’t see! I can’t see!_ ” Several of them yell desperately. “ _Can anyone see!?_ ”

Rey gapes at the men, dumfounded, unsure of what she did. She begins looking around her and catches sight of Ben just slipping through the door behind her. He scans the room with furrowed eyebrows, looking just as surprised as she does. But soon, a half-smile slowly creeps across his face. She runs over to him.

“I see you can Force blind now.” He glances down at her.   

“Is that what that was?” She asks breathlessly, still pumping with adrenaline. He widens his eyes with disbelief and, if she’s not mistaken, a little awe. He studies her closely for a moment, but then shakes his head briskly, refocusing on the present.

“This is temporary,” he informs her, glancing at the guards still crawling around.

“They’ll regain their sight soon, probably in the next ten minutes.” She gives a single nod before hurrying to the open doorway where the guards poured in. She slows a bit, walking through cautiously, her senses heightened, but relaxes when she feels no immediate threat.

She slips quietly through a small, empty room, a long, winding staircase just to the right, probably leading out of the dungeon and into the palace proper. She walks away from it towards an opening at the other end.

On the other side is another store room, but this one is _massive_ , extending out in all directions, absolutely packed with all manner of sacks and crates brought in from the docks, the smell of fresh produce and seawater filling the air. There are several openings that she can see and maybe more that she can’t— three along the wall to the left, two to the right, one directly across from her.

But which one leads to Simon…?

Rey closes her eyes.

She could be thinking about the blueprint of the palace that she studied _exhaustively_ with Poe last night, the rough estimate of their rescue’s location.

But her instincts seem to be serving her well today.

So instead she gives herself over to the Force, to the energy of the moment, the frenetic rhythm of life all around her. She loses herself in it, loses the sensation of having a physical body.

She _is_ everything. She’s the powerful ocean breeze, the fruit slowly rotting in crates, the worms in the earth, the disoriented guards in the room behind her, every scared, desperate prisoner trapped in this labyrinthine dungeon—

“What are you doing?”

Suddenly, her eyes snap open. And not because of the sound of Ben’s voice beside her.

Rey darts across the expanse of the storehouse, leaping over sacks and crates on her way to the opening just across from her. She bursts through and races several feet down a long, dimly lit hall before halting and crouching low to the ground. She waits a moment then crawls towards light shining from an open door just a few paces ahead. She hears several voices inside.

She feels Ben approach behind her, moving quietly. She looks over at him as he crouches down beside her.

“There are eight in there, I think,” she whispers. “But we’re close. Simon’s just on the other side.” She glances briefly down at her empty hands. “I need a weapon,” she mutters to herself. Suddenly, Ben extends an arm, offering his metal rod.

“What about you?” She whispers as she takes it.

He looks down at her with a strange glimmer, almost like pride.

“You don’t need me.” He shakes his head. “Go on,” he tells her, nodding towards the door. She squints, studying him for a moment, wishing she had time to concentrate, to read him better.

But she can’t bother with that right now.

She gives a quick nod then rises, moving swiftly towards the door. She straightens and tucks the arm with the metal rod behind her back, striding wordlessly into a long, skinny room that looks like a torture chamber. A guard lounging back in a metal chair sits up with a loud guffaw.

“ _What_ do we have here?” He crosses his arms and cocks his head with a smirk as six of his comrades turn their heads towards her. Two of them immediately reach for their metal rods and rise to their feet. The others just leer at her.

Rey studies them coolly.

No time for the subtle approach.

With one swift wave of her arm, she sweeps everything hanging on the right wall—the whips, the spiked clubs, the heavy chains, the metal rods— across the room, catching all of the men off guard and knocking most of them to the ground.

She bursts towards the two guards standing, ducking and going for the knees, bringing them down with hard strikes. She rises, extending a hand to Force-push another guard stumbling towards her before quickly turning around to deliver two precise blows to the backs of their heads. She dodges left, missing the swing of a club, and leaps up to land on a guard who’s just managed to stand.

Rey falls into the rhythm of combat, moving swiftly and decisively, aiming to incapacitate her opponents and protect herself, nothing more. She dives and swings, flipping away then charging forward, ducking abruptly and hitting hard just where it’s least expected.

A minute later, she’s the only one left standing.

She quickly scans the bodies around her, making sure it’s safe to proceed. Before moving on, she twists to where she entered, looking for Ben.

But he’s not there.

He’s not even in the palace anymore. She just realized that she no longer senses his presence.

Which is strange because she could swear she felt him watching her not ten seconds ago…

She shakes her head briskly, then races over to a door at the opposite end of the room, opening it to step into a single, narrow hall with large metal doors lining either side. Rey proceeds quickly.

She halts in the back end of the hall, slowly turning her head to the right. Then she swiftly kneels in front of the door, closing her eyes and lifting a hand to hover an open palm just an inch from the lock. She does exactly as she did before, picturing the inside of the lock, channeling the urgency inside her, giving herself over to that eerie sense of calm.

_Click._

She opens her eyes to see the door ajar before her. She rises and pulls it open.

A man is standing just inside, squinting down at her, his eyes adjusting to the light. He’s tall and thin, with sharp, angular features and dark skin. He has a large cut across his forehead and his clothes are a bit tattered.

He steps forward, eying her warily.

“Simon?” Rey says this more like a statement than a question.

He nods, still looking guarded.

“I’m here to rescue you.”

“You’re who?” He knits his eyebrows as he looks her up and down.

“I’m with the Resistance,” she adds hastily, but this doesn’t seem to clear his confusion.

“Aren’t you… uh…” He tilts his head. “A little _small_ for a Resistance fighter?”

She starts to speak but stops, whipping around when she hears the door at the end of the hall.

A guard walks in, slowly at first, but his eyes widen when he sees her. He immediately charges forward, gripping a spiked club. She calmly lifts an open palm and Force-pushes him back where he came from, right through the doorway. She turns around to find Simon staring at her, bug-eyed.

“Wait a minute,” he starts, recognition slowly registering on his face. “ _You’re Rey!_ ” He announces this like a revelation. “It’s an honor to be rescued by you.” He steps forward eagerly, extending a hand.

Now Rey’s the one who looks confused.

She cocks her head, surprised, but snaps to the door again before she can respond.

The same guard charges at her. In an instant, she rears back and casts her metal rod forcefully forward. It flies through the air with audible wind before smacking the man dead in the face. He falls to the ground, unconscious.

She turns back to Simon.

“Can you fight, Simon?” She asks matter-of-factly.

“Uh…” He stammers. “Yeah, absolutely,” he finishes with false bravado. “I’ve been in a couple of brawls in my time.”

“Good,” she replies, turning towards the door. “Because you and I have one more person to rescue. And a lot of people to get through on our way out.” She strides forward, stooping down to pick up the metal rod next to the guard’s body as she exits the hall. Simon waits a few seconds before scurrying after her.

Rey continues through the interrogation room, her mind busy with what comes next.

They need to get Poe, but he’s not far. The hard part will be getting to Chewie. He’s expecting to meet them at the top of the palace, just under the deck. There’s no way they’re going to make it there in time. They’ll just have to improvise…

She peers down the hall that leads to the storeroom. She begins moving swiftly in that direction, listening for Simon following behind, her senses still heightened, adrenaline still pumping.

Yes, getting out of here won’t be easy.

But despite the odds stacked against her, the impossible challenge that lies ahead, she’s not scared. In fact, she feels strangely confident.

She’ll survive. And keep her friends alive along with her. She’ll figure out a way…

She always does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey deals with a couple of unexpected complications with the bond and turning Ben Solo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up. This is the first chapter with no Kylo/Ben. But I have a stand in. ;)

**CHAPTER SUMMARY:** **Rey must handle unexpected complications with the bond/ turning Ben Solo.**

**Head’s up: This is a “no Ben/Kylo” chapter.**

Rey weaves through the thick crowds filling a wide hall of the training base, moving as briskly as she can. She glances at the oncoming faces as she goes, expecting to recognize at least a few.

But they’re all strangers.

She’s not used to this.

Having so many people around. Usually, it’s just her, the other instructors, and the new recruits. The base normally seems too big for them, a small, tight-knit group of about fifty people. But now there are hundreds. _Hundreds_.

Every single member of the Resistance has come to Dorajan for the General’s debriefing. And though Rey looks forward to things getting back to normal now that it’s over, it’s been useful to get a sense of what the base will be like once their numbers pick up. After all, this place was never intended for just a handful of recruits. It was built to train an army.

But, in light of yesterday’s report, it will be a quite a while before that vision becomes a reality.

At this, a twinge of guilt tugs at her chest.

Rey picks up her pace, abandoning politeness and beginning to push past the oncoming traffic more bruskly.

She doesn’t have much time. The General will be leaving any minute now. And she _can’t_ let this opportunity to speak with her slip away.

She’s been itching to talk with her one-on-one for weeks now. She has a question, one that’s been gnawing at her, and the General is one of the very few people she knows who can answer it.

Then again, given her reason for asking, the General is also the _very_ last person in this galaxy she’d want to talk to about this. Honestly, if that’s all there was, she wouldn’t be barreling through the hallway right now.

But she also has an idea. One she’s been toying with recently. She wanted to think on it a little more, work out the details in her mind, but after hearing the General discuss their plateauing numbers, she feels the need to act _now_.

Because the truth is…  she’s partially responsible for their recent slowdown in recruitment.

It seems that the growth of the Resistance is directly correlated with the galaxy’s perception of the First Order. And apparently, people in this galaxy have _very_ short memories.

It’s barely been over a year since the destruction of the Hosnian system and the New Republic. Yet, despite this atrocity, the First Order is currently enjoying a boost in its reputation. They’ve made some popular moves lately.

Like starting to sweeten negotiations for resource extraction with building projects, and not just any projects. They’re rebuilding temples and marketplaces, symbols of community pride and history, often ones that were destroyed years ago by the Empire. The entire strategy seems designed to win local support. And it’s working…

Then there was the recent take down of Riker Vos and the Merdos Syndicate. The galaxy _swooned_ over that one. One of the most hated criminal organizations in the Outer Rim, wiped out within a week… 

Rey sucks in a breath as she pushes past another throng of people.

She’d been so thrilled when she first heard about these things. She couldn’t help but interpret them as signs, signs that the bond is _working_. It was so encouraging to see a couple of small moments have such a significant impact, to influence him to make decisions like Ben Solo would, not Kylo Ren. He’s changing, slowly but surely…

Of course, it never occurred to her that in the process of doing so, he’d become a stronger leader.

And a stronger enemy.

She sighs heavily, rounding the corner of the hall, the command center just a few paces ahead.

This process— the bond, turning Ben Solo— it’s all becoming so complicated. In more ways than one.

Rey slows as she approaches the command center, taking a deep breath and clearing her mind of these thoughts. For now.

She halts just at the entrance, pausing for a moment to collect herself before reaching over to press a button on the comm. A few seconds pass before a response crackles through.

“Apologies, but the General is no longer taking appointments. If you’d like to schedule one, please see Lieutenant Connix in sector three.”

Rey’s shoulders drop in disappointment.

But it’s her own fault. She’s the one who kept putting this off. She had three whole days with the General here. If only she’d worked up the nerve to come earlier… 

She lingers in front of the door, trying to decide what to do. Maybe she should try one more time. Say it’s urgent? But it’s not urgent. Not really. Then again, given the General’s concern with recruitment, maybe she’d want to hear about this idea sooner rather than later…

Rey bites her lip, vacillating, stuck between hesitation to bull her way in and her persistent nature. Suddenly, she jerks back, startled by the sound of the comm.  

“Rey, is that you out there?”

She’s surprised to hear the General’s voice crackle through.

“Yes,” she answers eagerly, leaning forward.

“I had a feeling it was. Come on in.”

An instant later, the door whirs open. She takes a deep breath, both relieved and nervous, then squares her shoulders and strides into the command center.

The main room is large, with pristine white floors and walls covered in consoles, screens alive with the constant processing of data. There’s a large, round computing station in the center and a hologram of what looks like North sector of the Outer Rim hovering over it. The General sits to the left with one of the admirals beside her and a couple of operators busy at the consoles to her right.

At first, she doesn’t acknowledge Rey, continuing to speak with the admiral, gesturing towards the hologram as they discuss something in low voices. But soon, the admiral nods and stands, pushing his chair out and extending a hand towards her. The General takes it, giving him a firm nod and a word of encouragement before leaning over to press a button on the side of the station. The hologram disappears instantly.

The admiral exits the room, obviously preoccupied, seeming not to see Rey at all as he walks out the door. The General shifts to face her directly, her eyes crinkling into a warm smile.

“Well, go on. Have a seat,” she commands in a good-natured tone, gesturing to a chair next to her.

Immediately, Rey feels that nervous flutter subside.  

It happens every time. She always works herself into a frenzy before meeting the General, her mind busy with worry and insecurity. Then the moment she steps foot in front of her— sees that kind smile, those gentle eyes— it all just goes away, and she chastises herself for being so silly in the first place.

Rey nods and swiftly moves to take a seat.

“Thank you for taking the time to see me,” she says earnestly as she settles in the chair. “I know you’re set to leave soon, so I’ll get straight to the point.”

“My favorite thing,” the General says wryly, a smile still on her lips. Rey scoots her chair forward, sitting up straight and clasping her hands in her lap.

“I have an idea,” she starts. “A way we could boost our recruitment.” The General perks up, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” she continues, “about how the galaxy is starting to become complacent under the First Order, how they’re less likely to feel the need to join the Resistance as long as they can live their lives much as they always have.” The General nods as she speaks. “Well, the truth, as I’ve discovered it, is that there are _so many_ …” Rey pauses, shaking her head in disbelief. “ _So many_ lives in this galaxy that are so horrible, so desperate, they’re almost not worth living.” She leans forward, eyes intent on the General’s.

“I’m talking about _slaves_.” Her tone is impassioned. “I’m talking about people who _can’t_ , who _shouldn’t_ , live their lives as they always have because their lives are _unacceptable_.” She notices the General’s eyebrows begin to furrow.

“Now, I know you said we shouldn’t recruit slaves anymore because of the trouble it can cause,” she adds hastily. “And that’s not what I’m suggesting.” She takes a breath before continuing. “But I do think that the Resistance can be doing more to combat the spread of slavery across the galaxy. You said it yourself. Slave markets have absolutely _exploded_ since the First Order came to power. They don’t even bother enforcing anti-slavery laws.” The General begins shaking her head ruefully, mostly to herself.  

“I hear you, Rey.” She sounds heavy, burdened, her eyes growing dark with concern. “When I was a Senator, slavery was only a problem in the Outer Rim. Now there are slave markets cropping up all over. It’s only a matter of time before they reach planets like Coruscant.” 

“ _Exactly._ ” Rey nearly cuts her off. “So, _what if_ ,” she begins slyly, leaning forward a little, “the Resistance took a cue from the First Order.” At this, the General sits up, both surprised and curious. She cocks her head, examining Rey with intense interest.

“You know how they’ve been broadcasting those holos about gangs in the Outer Rim, obviously trying to butter up the public before they start invading?” The General nods. “Well, what if we were to do something similar?” A slow smile begins to creep across Rey’s lips. “What if we could get the galaxy to _actually see_ the conditions slaves are living in with their own eyes, this horror the First Order is doing _absolutely nothing_ about? And what if this were to correspond with the spread of slavery into their own systems, their own planets even?” The General’s head jerks back, her eyes wide. She looks up into the ceiling, thinking. Rey can tell that she’s struck by this idea. But she’s also working out a problem.

“That’s brilliant, Rey. It really is.” The General looks to her with genuine admiration, but then tilts her head to the side like she’s about to make a concession. “Unfortunately, the Resistance doesn’t have the kind of resources or even the connections needed to broadcast holos to the degree the First Order does.” Rey sighs and nods, sitting back in her chair a bit.

“I figured that,” she admits, looking down. “But it doesn’t have to be holos. We can explore other, cheaper methods of communication. And that’s not where we need to start anyways.”

“So where do we start?” The General raises an eyebrow.

Rey takes a deep breath, preparing, then leans forward, eyes sharp and confident.

“With your permission,” she begins, “I’d like to lead a small team of about twenty volunteers. Our _purpose_ ,” she articulates carefully, “would be to develop relationships with organizations and people who work to shut down slave markets in their systems. We would get to know them— what they do, what they need— and we would help them in whatever way we can. Not only would we be doing a good thing for the galaxy, but the Resistance would become associated with the cause against slavery.” As Rey speaks, the General’s face starts positively glowing.

“We do _that_ ,” Rey gestures with an index finger, “and I’m willing to bet our numbers will pick up significantly. _Especially_ , if the galaxy sees us taking a stand where the First Order won’t, actually _doing something_ instead of looking the other way while slavery spreads like wildfire.” The General nods, clearly impressed.

“ _Permission granted_.” She announces, so abruptly that Rey jerks back, surprised. “Create your team. You let me know what you need, when you need it. We’ve obviously got some details to work out with how to advertise our efforts to the galaxy, but there’s nothing holding us back from fighting slavery in whatever way we can. I gotta tell you, Rey,” the General shakes her head. “I’m ashamed I didn’t think of this myself.” She gazes at her with pride, and Rey can’t help but grow a little self-conscious.

“I-,” she starts then stops, looking down, not sure what to say.

“You’re a _leader_ , Rey,” the General tells her decisively. “I’ve seen it in you. I’m glad you’re starting to see it too. Tell me.” She leans in, eyes brimming with curiosity. “What inspired you to step up like this? To ask for more responsibility?” Rey sits up, parting her lips. She looks to the ceiling, considering how to answer.

“I’ve just…” she begins carefully, “I’ve had a chance see slavery with my own eyes these past few weeks, and I’ve been wanting to challenge myself more, lately. To push my limits. Discover what I might be capable of. And this seemed like a worthy place to start.”

“I agree.” The General nods with a twinkle in her eyes. She leans forward, bringing her face close to Rey’s. “ _To start_ ,” she says knowingly.

The General lingers for a moment before sitting back, staring at Rey with a glimmer of absolute certainty. “I have a feeling,” she begins in a self-assured tone, “that you have a _very_ important role to play in this war. Keep following your gut, just like you’re doing now, and you’ll find your place in all this soon enough.”

The General never takes her eyes off Rey as she speaks, her gaze intense and unwavering. Rey stares back, transfixed, feeling drawn in to those dark brown wells. For the briefest flash, she can’t stop the thought from crossing her mind.

Her eyes… they’re so much like his.

She jerks back, snapping out of her trance.

“Thank you.” She gives the General a nod. “For all of your encouragement, for your support.” She rises to her feet, squaring her shoulders. “I _won’t_ disappoint you,” she says firmly.

“I don’t doubt it,” the General replies with the sharp turn of the head. Rey exhales, not realizing she was holding her breath, and nods again. She starts to turn away.

“Is there anything else you need before you go?” The General asks casually.

Rey pauses, stiffening like a statue for a second before shaking her head no.

“That was all. Thank you again for making time for me.” She lingers for a moment, then begins walking towards the entrance.

“Rey.” She halts at the sound of her name. “Are you… sure?”

She takes a deep inhale, trying to achieve an inward calm, an evenness, like becoming a blank. She turns to face the General.

“Yes, I’m—” She starts but immediately stops, dropping her shoulders.

She can’t lie. The General will see right through her.

She presses her lips together and looks down, starting to rub her right thumb and index finger together nervously. 

“Actually,” she starts again. “I did have… a question. But it can wait until a better time. I don’t want to delay your departure any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense.” The General waves a hand. “I don’t even know if the ship is ready to leave yet.” She turns towards the operators still working diligently at the consoles. One of them catches her eye.

“Departure is in five minutes, ma’am,” he informs her with a slight bow. 

“Make it fifteen,” she tells him, then turns back to Rey. “Take a seat.” She gestures to the chair beside her once more.

Rey hesitates, standing awkwardly at the entrance for a few seconds before she carefully steps forward, slowly making her way back to the chair. As she does, she feels that nervous churning return to her belly.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She should never have even _considered_ doing this.

It’s not too late. There’s still a chance to back out…

“Really, it’s a silly question.” She halts suddenly and takes a step back. “It’s not at all relevant to the Resistance. It’s more personal. It’s stupid.” She shakes her head dismissively, looking down.

“Rey,” the General begins in a gentle tone. Rey looks back up and is met with a soft gaze. “Do you think I’m only interested in your involvement in this war?” The General tilts her head. “Because I’m not. I care about _you_. As a person. Now take a seat.” She gestures to the chair again, eyes fixed resolutely on hers.

Rey stares back with a faltering gaze, squelching the urge to gulp. She takes a step forward, then another, continuing towards the chair. Once she gets there, she sinks onto it slowly, looking down and clasping her hands in her lap. 

At first, she doesn’t speak. She just takes a deep breath, staring into the floor. She holds it in for a moment then lets it out in a measured stream.

She needs to approach this indirectly, ease in to what she really wants to ask so it doesn’t appear too obvious.

“I have a question about the Force,” she says finally. The General sits up in her chair, curious but also hesitant.

“You know I’m not a Jedi, Rey,” the General reminds her. “I’m not trained in the ways of the Force.”

“I know.” Rey nods, still looking down. “But you have this power inside you. Maybe a power you don’t quite understand?” She glances up tentatively. The General nods softly to confirm. “And you can do things through it… things most other people can’t.” Rey pauses for a moment.

“Like…” she continues carefully, “sense other people’s emotions?”

At this, the General tilts her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

“How do you think I knew you had something else to ask me?” The General winks.

Rey smiles and relaxes a little, unclasping her hands in her lap and scooting forward in her chair. She straightens, preparing herself, remembering all the ways she’s imagined having this conversation.

So many options for tip-toeing into this…

“I thought about lying to you,” she admits, shrugging her shoulders. “But I figured you’d be able to sense it.” She leans forward a little. “Can you… sense a lie?”

The General grunts, looking down, her expression softening into something strange. Her eyes are distant, like she’s caught in a very old memory.

“My father used to say I could _smell_ a lie, just sniff the deception right out of the air.” She loses herself in nostalgia and a deep sadness for a moment, before suddenly shaking her head and sitting up. “It wasn’t until many years later,” she continues, “that I realized I could _feel_ the lie, sense the deception in my own heart.” She lifts a hand to pat her chest.

“What does a lie feel like to you?” Rey asks eagerly, leaning in. The General purses her lips and looks up to the ceiling.

“It feels like…” she muses, “a kind of sinking. But a grating kind. Like something that should be going up is going down instead.” Rey starts nodding before the General finishes speaking.

“It’s similar for me,” she says, sitting up. “But it’s not always very strong. It depends on the person, I think.”

“Some are _definitely_ better at hiding their lies than others.” The General turns her head sharply, then looks over to Rey, leaning towards her. “I’ve found that the best liars are those who often lie to themselves as well. It can be very difficult to detect a lie from someone who makes a habit of deception, even in their own mind.”

“Has there ever been a time when you _weren’t_ able to feel a lie?”

“ _Many_ times,” the General intones with a swell of regret. “I’ve found out the hard way that sensing others’ emotions is not an exact science. For me, at least.” Rey nods again, thinking about all the times she hasn’t been sure what she was feeling from another person.

“In your experience, what’s the most difficult emotion to sense in someone?” She looks to the General curiously. The older woman seems struck by the question, intrigued by the challenge of answering it.

She clicks her tongue, bringing an index finger to rest at her lips as she searches her memories. After about a minute, she brings her hand down.

“I’ve found that anger…” the General begins carefully, “is a very complex emotion. It’s easy to detect but there’s usually something at the root of it, _all_ kinds of different things— Shame. Fear. Jealousy. Or even compassion. Honor. Respect. The problem is that anger is such a strong emotion, it tends to swallow everything else. It can be impossible to feel what might be lurking under the rage.”

Rey looks down as the General finishes, setting her jaw.

“I can see that,” she says quietly. “So… do you think anger is the strongest emotion?”

“ _Oh no_.” The General scoffs as though the question were ridiculous. “Definitely not,” she declares with absolute confidence. “No, love is the strongest the emotion.”

At this, Rey’s head snaps up. She can’t stop her heart from skipping a beat, a surge of excitement racing through her. But she takes a slow breath, trying to achieve a sense of calm before she asks her next question.

“So…” Rey begins cautiously, “What does… love feel like?”

The General’s eyes instantly flash with a kind of amused suspicion  She presses her lips together, sitting up.

“Well,” the General starts, “there are many different kinds of love. It’s a complex emotion too. What kind of love are you primarily interested in hearing about, Rey?” She raises a teasing eyebrow. “Romantic love?”

Rey fights to remain calm, shrugging her shoulders in response. The General looks down, a smile tugging at her lips. Her face softens as she thinks, her eyes growing distant once more.

“Love feels… heavy,” she begins in a low voice. “It weighs you down. In a strange way, it’s a combination of every emotion there is, intensified. All of that coursing through you at once…” She shakes her head as her voice trails off. “It can drive you crazy. It’s even painful. But… a good kind of pain.” Her smile deepens as she continues to gaze off wistfully. “It makes you feel alive, driven. There’s no better sense of purpose than caring about another person so deeply. Especially when the feeling is returned.”

Rey listens intently as the General speaks. She’s so focused on her that she’s surprised when she suddenly snaps her head up, a thought springing to mind.

“It doesn’t always feel so heavy, though.” The General looks over at Rey. “Sometimes it’s the other extreme. It’s just a warm ball of light inside you— steady, strong, peaceful. Like a second heartbeat, as I’ve experienced it.” Rey sits quietly, appearing calm and composed, her shoulders relaxed. But her mind is frenzy of motion, readily processing every word the General says.

“Of course,” the older woman continues, “sensing love in another person becomes much more complicated when the love is returned. Love is such a strong emotion… it can be difficult to distinguish what someone else is feeling from what you’re feeling.”

She pauses for a few seconds, then cocks her head, looking at Rey slyly.

“Have I told you what you wanted to know?”

Rey takes in a short breath, remaining perfectly still.

“Uh…yes. More or less.” She bobs her head, not sure what else to say. She stares at the General awkwardly, resisting the urge to fidget with her hands in her lap. Suddenly, another question flashes to mind.

“You don’t…” she starts carefully, “talk about things like this much, do you?” She looks at the General softly, curious.

“No, I don’t,” she answers, shaking her head. Then her eyes drift upwards. “But I should,” she adds decisively. She looks back at Rey. “Ask me about the Force any time you like. I think it’s good for both of us.” Rey nods in assent, sitting up even straighter.

“We should talk about this again,” she suggests sincerely. “I know I can learn a lot from you, even if you aren’t trained. In fact, maybe that’s better because…” She pauses, looking down. “You’re like me.”

At this, the General immediately reaches forward to take one of Rey’s hands into hers, eyes brimming with compassion.

“Rey, you _are not_ alone,” she assures her with a voice full of emotion. “There are people all around you willing to talk to you, to listen to you, to help you. I’m just one of them.” The older woman raises her eyebrows with a warm smile. Rey smiles in return, a swell of gratitude rising in her chest.

She’s glad she did this after all. It was useful in ways she didn’t expect and more importantly, it reminded her that no matter how she feels sometimes, she isn’t alone. Not really.

The General squeezes her hand once more, then withdraws. Rey rises with a flush of accomplishment.

“I won’t take any more of your time,” she announces brightly. “Thank you for everything, again. For answering my questions, for giving me an opportunity to lead a special team. I’m going to make you very proud, General. You’ll see.” She nods with determination.

The General sits back in her chair, folding her hands lightly in her lap, looking up at Rey, her face absolutely beaming.

“I _can’t wait_ to see it.” Rey feels the General surge with conviction, and she can’t stop herself from smiling, her spirits lifted from feeling the General’s confidence in her.

Now she just needs to live up to it…

Rey straightens and squares her shoulders, standing a little taller, and nods again briskly. Then she turns and begins striding towards the door.

“Just out of curiosity…”

Rey halts at the sound of the General’s voice behind her. She turns to face her, standing just at the entrance. The General sits back casually, a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

“Who is it?” Her lips curl into a knowing smile.

Rey tilts her head, confused.

“The man who has you asking me what love feels like through the Force?”

A cold pang of fear immediately sizes her chest. She catches her breath, suddenly finding it hard to inhale and exhale. She stares at the General, frozen, terrified in spite of a desperate effort to calm down. A lifetime seems to pass as she just stands there, unable to croak out a response or even move.

“Never mind.” The General shakes her head, amused. She shifts in her chair towards the computing station. “Just do an old woman a favor and enjoy your youth while you can, alright?” She shoots Rey a sardonic look.

Rey stands frozen for another few seconds before she manages to nod weakly and turn back to the entrance. She gulps as she walks over and presses a panel, the door before her whirring open instantly.

She walks out into the hallway, a bit lightheaded. At first her pace is slow, ragged. But it shifts on a dime. She  practically breaks out into a full-on run, easily weaving through the much thinner crowds.

Rey picks up her pace, racing through the wide, white halls, turning corners, passing blurred faces, ignoring someone yelling out her name. She halts abruptly, slapping the panel to open the barracks door and barreling down the steps the instant the door whirs open.

She slows a bit as she enters the narrow gray hall, her head down. She glances up briefly to nod at one of the new recruits as she passes, but doesn’t say a word.

She continues on swiftly, stopping to key in the code next to her room. She slips in just after the door opens and immediately presses a panel to close it behind her.

Then, she just stands there.

She lets out a long exhale, like she’d been holding it in for days, closing her eyes and turning her face up to the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, a mindful one, feeling every molecule of air entering her lungs. She opens her eyes as she lets it out, standing still for just another moment.

Finally, she moves, stepping towards the lower compartments and sinking down onto the chair next to them. She props an elbow on the counter, burying her face in her palm.

She sits just like this for a minute, trying to clear her head, focus on breathing, relax in the comfort of solitude.

But her mind will not be silenced. Or even slowed.

Rey sighs and shakes her head, eyes still buried in her palm. A wave of exhaustion overtakes her, both physical and mental.

What a mess.

What a mess. What a mess. What a mess.   

She slides her palm down her face and looks up, still shaking her head.

At least now she has an opportunity to make things right.

Or _try to_ , anyways.

The General was _extremely_ supportive of her idea, and though there are a lot of details to work out, it gives her a place to start.

 _She_ is the one responsible for causing their recruitment problems. Now _she_ is the one who’s going fix them. And she’s going to do it in a way that will give hope to the most desperate people in this galaxy.

If the Resistance can become associated with the fight against slavery, they’ll attract new members, alright. All the more if they can draw attention to the First Order’s callous indifference towards it.  

At this, Rey sighs and buries her face in her palm again.

 _The First Order_ has proven to be quite the cunning enemy. They’ve changed gears from senseless, wanton destruction to a more practical, calculating approach. They slaughtered their way to the top and now that they’ve reached it, they’ve changed their face, from ruthless warmongers to just and reasonable sovereigns.

They’re two-faced, really. They can change between the two on a dime, all fire and fury in one instance, then generous and considerate the next.

Much like their leader.

Rey sucks in a breath, dropping her palm. She sits back in the chair and starts drumming her fingers on the counter.

 _Their leader_ …

He’s becoming more Ben Solo. Little by little. The changes are small but significant. She can _feel_ it. Destruction isn’t his only interest anymore. There are other desires, other parts of him emerging.

But he’s still Supreme Leader of the First Order.

And _this_ is the part of approaching his conversion as a process that she _did not_ fully consider.

The end game is for him to abandon the First Order. Once he embraces being Ben Solo, he won’t want the same things he did before, that manic desire for power and control. He’ll leave it weak and leaderless, vulnerable to ultimate defeat.

But what about in the meantime? What about the fact that he will still be Supreme Leader _while_ he’s becoming Ben Solo? How will this influence his leadership of the First Order? And how will that affect the Resistance in their efforts against them?

 _Build things_ , she told him. Just like Ben Solo would.

And he did.

Now nearly every negotiation the First Order makes for a planet’s resources comes with a building project. By all reports, he’s doing an excellent job. He’s choosing projects that are culturally symbolic in some way. He’s giving locals a large degree of input in the construction. He’s providing access to raw materials that would otherwise be out of reach. And he’s footing the bill for all of it.

 _Very_ generous.

The Supreme Leader. Of the First Order. Generous.

A year ago, people would have laughed if those words were uttered in the same sentence. But now…?

It’s not so far-fetched.

It makes sense when she thinks about it. He’s becoming more Ben Solo. Ben Solo is generous. He’s the Supreme Leader. So now the Supreme Leader appears more generous.

It’s obvious. Now.

Yet she _did not_ see this coming…

But it’s happening and she has to deal with that. She has to deal with the fact that as the bond changes him _while_ he’s still Supreme Leader, he’ll temporarily become a stronger enemy. And she’ll need to rise to the challenge.

She can do that.

She has a plan. She has approval, access to resources. Next, she needs to build a team. She’ll meet his stronger leadership with her own.

So, it’s a problem, but not one she can’t handle.

The other problem, however…

That one is very much out of her league.

Rey immediately darkens. A sick feeling creeps into her gut, nausea mixed with an inexplicable coldness, like her blood freezing in her veins. She leans over on her chair to rest her forearms on her knees, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

Another complication with the bond, with this process, that she _most definitely_ did not see coming.

Except in this case, she doesn’t have the slightest idea what to do about it. If there’s even anything she can do about it…

She’d been hoping that she was wrong, that what she was feeling from him wasn’t what she thought it might be.

But, no.

She was right.

Talking with the General today confirmed it. What she described… about love.

That’s what she’s been feeling from him.

Rey hangs her head, fighting a tightness in her throat.

She’s not at all prepared to deal with this. She’s not even prepared to acknowledge it. Part of her desperately wants to just ignore the fact and hope it goes away.

But that’s not an option.

Denying that the problem exists will only make it worse. She’ll have to face it sooner or later.  

Rey sighs and closes her eyes, shaking her head.

She doesn’t even understand how this happened in the first place. The only thing she can figure is that it’s just been so long since anyone felt compassion for him, or even just saw him as a human being and not some masked monster… Sometimes she gets the feeling that before her, he hadn’t had a real conversation in over a decade.   

He’s just so lonely, so desperate to connect with someone, to be seen.

She can understand that.

In a way, this is a good thing. One more sign that he’s changing. He _needs_ to make room in his life for emotions other than anger, especially love. She _wants_ him to experience love, both giving and receiving.

It’s just… terribly inconvenient that she happens to be the recipient.

Rey feels herself weighed down with burden, like crates stacked on her shoulders. She shifts, sliding back in her chair and folding her arms across the surface of the counter, leaning over to bury her face in them. She closes her eyes and releases a long, heavy sigh.

She doesn’t even know how to begin to deal with this. Because the truth is…

She has very little experience with love herself. She needed another Force-sensitive just to help her identify the emotion.

It’s not that she’s _never_ experienced love. A lot has changed in the past year. She’s grown close to people in a way she never has before. What she feels for Finn, Rose, Daja, and even Poe… that must be love, in a way. She’s certainly never felt so devoted to people before, so willing to sacrifice everything to defend them.

But the love one has for family or for a partner…?

That’s a kind of love she’s never experienced before. No one’s ever loved her like that.

Until now. 

And if she’s honest with herself, if she draws back all of her pride and all of her fear…

She’s grateful to finally know what it feels like.

On her worst days on Jakku, she was certain she would die without ever knowing love, without ever knowing what it feels like to have someone care for her more than anything, someone who actually _wanted_ her, to be with her and never leave. Her worst fear was that she’d live her whole life alone among the dunes, waiting, waiting, waiting, interminably waiting.

But now… well. At least she knows. It may not be under ideal circumstances, but at least she knows.

Then it starts. The involuntary montage, like holos in her mind, memories that come and go beyond her control. She wishes that she could stop herself from doing this. But she just can’t, no matter how hard she tries.

They flash by— the words, the images, the emotions.

His eyes in the firelight, the way he looked at her when he told her she wasn’t alone. The throne room. Hitting the floor and twisting around to see Snoke in two. His gloved hand extending towards her, his voice, barely above a whisper. “ _Please_.”

Laying a flower on her parents’ sand-covered bones. Reminiscing about his father under a speeder. Returning the Falcon to Denash. Building her a fire, holding her in his arms to keep her warm. Showing her how he felt about his father. His hands at her elbows, teaching her not to be afraid of the lightening. The kyber cave, the blue light of the crystals all around them, his dark eyes lost in hers, the first time she felt it… that weight, that surging of emotions, so painful yet so deeply satisfying at the same time.

Carrying her through the halls of the dreadnought. Stroking her hair back with a gloved hand and kissing her forehead. Leaning over the card table, black eyes so intense, so expressive, they speak more powerfully than his words.

“You _do_ have a place, somewhere you belong.”

The way he looked at her after she healed him in the training room, so utterly shocked and yet _so grateful_. His hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her, enclosing her in his warmth.

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and tenses her body, still leaning over the counter, face buried in her folded arms.

And she just starts to cry.

At first, she fights it— keeps tensing, keeps squeezing her eyes shut, trying to seal in the tears.

But they burst through anyway, and once they start, she just can’t stop them.

They pour out of her, streaming down her cheeks, her chin, her neck. They gather at her jaw and drip onto the countertop in a regular rhythm, creating a salty pool. They pour and pour and pour, like they’ll never stop, like they’ve been waiting a lifetime to be released.

They pour until her body is exhausted from sobbing, until her eyes are hot and weary, until all she wants to do is just sleep, just fall asleep right where she is and slip away from it all— from the bond, from Ben, from this whole mess. Just bury herself deep in the solace of a dreamless slumber.

Finally, her tears slow down enough for her to breathe again, breathe in and out, satisfying inhales that nurture her lungs. Tears still slip down her cheeks, but fewer now, enough to forget. She takes in the air and holds it in, preparing to let it out and drift away with it, follow it into nowhere.

But just as she’s ready to release it, she’s interrupted.

By a subtle warmth rising in her core.

Rey freezes instantly, panic seizing her gut.

The warmth rises, gradually, fading in…

She whips up and around in her chair, gasping like she just woke up from a nightmare.

The feeling spreads, up into her chest and into her limbs.

She clenches her fists and sucks in a breath, _utterly panicked_.

Suddenly, her head snaps to the door and she hears a heavy series of knocks.

“ _Hey, Rey_!”

Poe’s voice calls from outside.

She immediately shoots out of her chair and presses the panel, the door whirring open to reveal a slightly startled Poe standing in the hallway.

“Whoa!” He jerks back, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you so eager to see me? Wait a minute…” He cocks his head, studying her face more closely. “Have you been _crying_?”

Rey rolls her eyes and turns away, walking a few steps from the door. Poe follows her into the room.

“What’s going on? What do I not know about?” His probes urgently.

“Poe, it’s nothing,” she says, her back still to him. “It’s personal, nothing to do with the Resistance, so calm yourself, alright?” She doesn’t turn around, taking a moment to wipe her eyes and touch her cheeks with the backs of her hands, check in, feel how much of her face is still warm from crying.

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. “Ok. Sorry. I just assumed. I didn’t realize…” His voice trails off, at a loss for what to say. He waits a moment, then steps towards her. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” He offers tentatively.

Rey grunts, turning to face him.

“Thanks, Poe,” she says dryly. “But if I need to talk to someone, I’ll go see Finn or Rose.”

He immediately jerks back, offended.

“Hey!” He protests. “You can talk to me about personal stuff. We’re like friends, right?” He gestures to himself and to her a couple of times, eyes beckoning her to confirm.

“Yes, we’re friends,” Rey admits begrudgingly. “But Finn and Rose are much better listeners than you are.”

“You don’t know that.” He crosses his arms, shaking his head. “You know why? Because you’ve never tried. Can’t judge a ship you’ve never flown, Rey.” He leans in with a teasing glimmer.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop the corners of her lips from turning upwards.

“Maybe next time,” she says wryly. “What are you here for anyway?”  

“What do you mean?” He sputters. “New X-wing demonstration. Ten minutes. How are you not there already?” His arms fly out at his sides.

“Oh, I completely forgot.” Rey covers her eyes with her palm, then wipes it down her face. “Give me five minutes to clean up and I’ll meet you down there, ok?”

“Alright.” He agrees warily, eying her with concern. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He asks, genuinely worried about her.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assures, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. She begins ushering him to the door. “Better than fine, in fact,” she tells him as they walk. “I just got approval from the General for a new project.”

“Really!” He whips around just as they reach the doorway, his eyes flying wide open with interest. “What project?”  

“I’ll tell you and some of the others later,” she says she turns him around and guides him into the hall. “If you’re lucky, I _might_ even let you be on my team.” At this, he narrows his eyes, turning back to face her. He studies her coolly for a few seconds.

“You know what?” He points at her. “I like it when your cheeky.” He winks teasingly.

“Oh, get on with you.” She shoos him away, a smile spreading across her lips. “I’ll meet you in _five minutes_.” She nods down the hall, indicating for him to go on.

He doesn’t immediately leave, instead lingering for a moment, a glimmer in his eyes, almost like admiration. But he quickly turns and begins striding down the hall with his casual swagger, and Rey can’t help but watch him go for a moment, smiling to herself.

Then she turns, pressing the panel to close the door, making her way to the washing station to rinse off her face. She splashes cool water on her skin, all over her cheeks, her ears, her neck.

Her eyes hurt a bit, but she can tell that the flush is already subsiding, the red stains disappearing from her cheeks. She rises and reaches for a towel, patting herself dry.

As she cleans herself up, her mind drifts, wanders to only a few minutes ago, to that familiar feeling rising in her core, abruptly cut off by another’s presence.

For a moment, her shoulders drop and she feels a deep sadness overtake her.

But she soon straightens and shakes off the feeling, casting the towel to the side and charging to the door to exit into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for reading! I just wanted to let you know that I might need to transition from weekly to bi-weekly updates. We'll see. I'm going to try to keep up the pace but I'm a teacher and it's August. You know what that means...
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read!


	20. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is given conflicting opinions about his Outer Rim invasions.

The throne room is dead quiet.  

Kylo Ren sits back, forearms resting lightly on either side of him, fingers curled over the edge of the throne.

He waits, resisting the urge to sigh inside his mask.  

Instead, he observes his surroundings, red walls reflecting on the shiny surface of the floor, the long walkway stretching out ahead, the oculus to the left.

The room is an exact replica of Snoke’s on Supremacy I, the one he so frequently visited as a supplicant.

But here, _he_ is the sovereign.

He never gets tired of looking at the room from this perspective. Being in _this seat_ , this position… It feels so right, so satisfying. He was _born_ to sit in this chair. 

But the truth is, he doesn’t spend much time here. He’d go insane if he stayed in this room all day. He prefers to keep moving, to keep the generals and colonels on their toes with the constant threat of his appearance. He finds things get done more efficiently if he makes a point to regularly show up unannounced— to meetings, inspections, training exercises.

He always comes here a once a week, though, more for symbolic reasons than anything else. This room represents his power, his authority, his unquestionable supremacy. It _matters_ that people see him here.

Especially certain people.

As if on cue, the door at the end of the room whirs open and General Hux strides through, his hands clasped behind him. He walks forward, that signature pompous expression coming into view. His nose is turned up so high that Kylo can practically see inside his nostrils.

He halts just a few feet in front of the throne.

Then he just stands there.

Not for long, only for a second or two, but long enough for Kylo to feel his blood begin boil in his veins.

 _Finally_ , Hux kneels, resting one arm on his knee and bowing deeply. The gesture appears genuine, but Kylo can sense his resentment, that abrasive grind, rubbing his insides raw. He looks down at the man for a minute, a _long_ minute, giving him some much-needed time on the floor.

“General.” He finally speaks in his distorted voice.

Hux rises, his jaw hardened.

“Supreme Leader.”

Kylo rolls his eyes inside his mask.

It’s been nearly a year and the man still can’t manage to utter those words without an undertone of disdain…

He clenches his fists, staring down at that smug, white face. A few seconds pass.

“ _Don’t_ waste my time, General,” Kylo barks.

 Hux jumps, startled.

“I assume you have a reason for requesting this meeting beyond the pleasure of my company.”

For an instant, the general’s face twists into a sneer, but he banishes the look quickly.

“Of course.” He turns his nose in the air. “I wanted to speak to you about the Outer Rim invasions.”

“What about them?”

“They’re going quite well, aren’t they?” He tilts his head, smirking. “The Minos Cluster. Salient. Bonadan. And soon Felucia. All _firmly_ under our control. All within the past month. That’s much more quickly than our initial estimates.” He juts his chin up proudly, as though he were personally responsible for this success.

Kylo grips the edges of the throne.

“ _General_.” His voice is clipped. “Tell me you didn’t come here to inform me of what I already know.”

Hux’s eyes flit upwards, then lower, icy blue and cutting.

“ _No,_ ” he says curtly. “I came here to point out that we could be doing more. Obviously, clearing out the Outer Rim rabble is easier than we expected. So why only invade two systems at a time? We have the resources, the manpower.” He steps forward, a little fire in his eyes. “We could be invading _ten systems_.”

“We could,” Kylo says flatly. “But we’re not.”

Hux bristles, twitching.

“ _Why?_ ” He demands. “What _possible_ reason could we have for not utilizing the full extent of our martial capabilities?”

Kylo starts shaking his head before the general finishes.

“So, you still haven’t learned your lesson.” He sits back on the throne. “How disappointing.”

Hux grits his teeth, but says nothing.

“You still think about everything as though warfare were our only concern. To you, we’re always at war.”

“But we _are_ at war!” The general growls, shooting forward.

“No, we’re not.” Kylo’s voice is detached. “We’re helping the governments of Outer Rim systems reestablish the rule of law. It’s not war. It’s military aid.”

Hux scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever you want to call it, _Supreme Leader_.” His lips twist into a sneer. “Military aid. A martial engagement. Clearing out the garbage. The fact is we’re not operating at full capacity. Why drag out these invasions over _years_ when we could finish them in a few mon—”

“ _The fact_ ,” Kylo cuts him off, “that the answer to that question isn’t obvious to you is the reason you still haven’t recovered your demerits since Garos.”

Hux sucks in a breath, a blast of rage surging through him.

“You are a short-sighted fool who sees nothing beyond your own nose.” Kylo points at him, leaning forward. “You still make decisions as though the First Order were fighting for control over the galaxy. But that war has already been won. Now we have to rule it. And _ruling_ is not the same as warmongering.”

“I understand that—”

“No, you _don’t_ ,” Kylo interrupts. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here whining about the rate of invasion. You would know that though we _could_ pick up our pace, we _shouldn’t_ because the campaigns would be less efficient and more likely to cause an uproar throughout the galaxy.” He cocks his head, masked face bearing down on the general.

 Then he sits back on the throne.

“We _must_ maintain control,” he continues evenly. “And to do that, we need compliant and loyal systems, not systems terrified that they’re next in a chaotic cluster of invasions that will have disastrous effects on their local economies.”

The general’s upper lip twitches, that sneer returning.

“ _Always_ so concerned with public opinion, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare. “It’s enough to make one wonder why we even bothered to destroy the New Republic. What was the point if we govern as they did, letting the cares of _little people_ guide our decisions? If _Snoke_ could see us now, he would roll over—”

Suddenly, Hux croaks, his hands flying to his neck. He desperately fights for air, tugging at his collar. Long seconds pass without precious oxygen, and his face grows increasingly red, his head seeming on the verge of exploding all over the throne room floor.

Finally, Kylo releases his invisible grip and the general falls to his knees, taking a giant gulp of air. Kylo observes coolly as Hux gasps and wheezes on the floor.

“One of these days,” the Supreme Leader begins. “You’re going to learn that little people are dangerous. Individually, they’re nothing. But together? They’re the Rebellion that destroyed the Empire. And if we’re not careful, they’ll be the Resistance that destroys us.”

Hux looks up, his face twisted in a look of disgust. He opens his mouth to speak, but Kylo cuts him of.

“Get out,” he commands.

The general rises, fists clenched, expression defiant. He starts to speak again.

But before he can get a word out, Kylo casts him across the throne room with a flick of his wrist.

Hux lands just in front of the walkway, skidding halfway across its smooth surface.

“Make me repeat myself, and I’ll demote you.” Kylo’s distorted voice resonates, filling the room.

Hux scrambles from the floor and charges down the walkway, shoulders hunched into his ears. Kylo can practically hear him seething, feel the resentment grinding inside him like bits of glass in his gut. Once he reaches the door, it whirs open and he disappears.

The moment the door closes, Kylo shoots from the throne, grabbing his comm at his side.

“Cancel the rest of my appointments,” he growls, walking forward.

“All of them sir?” A response crackles through.

Kylo sucks in a breath.

“If anyone else walks into this room today, they’re not walking out,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t wait for a response, muting the comm and returning it to his belt. He clenches his fists, walking a few steps before reaching up to unclick and pull his mask overhead, then chuck it violently across the room.

He whips around, not even seeing where it lands. He begins manically pacing the area just in front of the throne.

 _Hux_.  

That man is a problem.

He wouldn’t give a damn about all his pissing and moaning if it weren’t for his sway over the other generals. But the reality is that while half of them hate his guts the other half would follow him into an asteroid field. He’ll grouse about all of his _idiot_ ideas being ignored and the others will actually _listen_.

Kylo can’t have that. He can’t have his generals at war with one another. And he certainly can’t have Hux undercutting his authority at every turn.

But he can’t get rid of the man either. Not yet, anyways. He’s too integral to this organization, too revered as the strong arm of the First Order. Too many people are loyal to him, would even _leave_ with him if he were to be dismissed.

No, Hux must be managed, not discarded.

But how?

Scaling down his authority hasn’t worked. The demerits haven’t worked. In fact, he’s gotten _worse_. He’s openly challenging his decisions in meetings. If he doesn’t get his way, he makes sure every leader worth a damn in this organization knows about it. And even though his authority was reduced after Garos, he worms his way around it through the generals who are loyal to him. They do his bidding, practically without question, as though _he_ were Supreme Leader.

Kylo growls, pacing.

Hux is driving him into _insanity_.

He just wants to take that man’s throat, just reach out to grip him with his _actual hand_ , and _squeeze_ , squeeze until his eyes pop out of his sockets and his face— 

Suddenly, Kylo halts, his violent fantasy interrupted.

By a familiar feeling in his core.

At first, he’s caught off guard, his chest seizing.

But after moment, he bows, closing his eyes and clasping his hands behind him. He focuses on that feeling, warmth gradually rising from within. As he does, his rage abates, like boiling water removed from heat. The closer her presence draws, the more he feels his mind revert to an even base.

Finally, he feels her a few paces to his left. He takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes, turning towards her.

Rey gapes at the surroundings, her emotions darkening into a heavy, sinking feeling.

At first, Kylo’s confused.

Is it him? Is she upset with him? Why would she be?

But then the realization hits.

It’s the room. And the memory associated with it.

She looks up and around, taking in the scene as though she never expected in a million years to be here again. He feels her wrestle inwardly, her emotions so complex he can’t identify all of them.

There’s anger. Disappointment.

Also longing. Sadness.

Finally, she turns, her eyes meeting his, lingering for a moment before drifting to the throne behind him. She scans the back of the room, her eyebrows knitting.  

“No Praetorian guard?” She looks over at him.

“I don’t need one,” he answers matter-of-factly.

She doesn’t react, just crosses her arms, turning to walk towards the oculus. He watches her as she does, noticing the difference in himself, in the atmosphere, with her here.

It’s strange to be with her in this room again. It feels dissonant yet familiar.

Perhaps that’s because he imagines being here with her so often. Almost every night, he sees that moment in his mind, the image burned into his memory, her looking up at him with clear brown eyes, tear-stained cheeks…

Except in his version, she always takes his hand. Then he draws her in closer, never taking his eyes off her—

“You don’t spend much time here, do you?” Rey interrupts his thoughts, her back to him as she examines the oculus.

“Not really.” He walks towards her, stopping just a couple feet away.

“So, why are you here now?” She tightens her arms as she turns to face him.

Kylo doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studies her.

Something’s… off.

She feels more guarded than usual. Maybe it’s the throne room? Being here again? He observes her silently, trying to read her.

But she feels closed, armored against entry.

“I make a point to meet certain people here,” he finally answers.

“Like who?” She breaks eye contact, stepping around him and walking away. It’s almost as if she’s uncomfortable standing so close to him…

He turns, eyeing her with suspicion.

“Like General Hux.” He stays right where he is, watching her walk further.

“He’s not giving you more trouble, is he?” She asks casually, her back still to him.

Kylo grunts.

“Hux is always trouble.” He covers his eyes with a palm.  

“What is it this time?” Rey turns to face him with a kind of detached interest.

He drops his hand, narrowing his eyes, still trying to read her.

She looks relaxed but she feels on edge, nervous even. He tilts his head, examining her.

“He wants to speed up the rate of Outer Rim invasions.” He steps forward.

She immediately steps back even though there’s quite a few paces between them.

_What is wrong with her?_

Surely, it’s not just being in this room again. He twitches, considering what might be behind this… 

“And what did you say?” She asks, turning and walking slowly towards the throne.

He clasps his hands behind him and steps towards the throne as well, exactly parallel from her.

“I told him no.” His senses are heightened, attuned to her inner rhythm, that strange guardedness emanating from her.

“And I take it he didn’t like your answer.”

“No, he did not.” Kylo stops, turning to face her.

She does the same, arms still crossed. They stare at each other with what feels like an unnecessary cavern of space between them.

“What would you have told him?” He nods to her.

She uncrosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. She looks off thoughtfully, considering her answer, some of that guardedness abating.   

“I would have said the same thing.” She nods a few times.

“Why?” Kylo turns his chin up, genuinely interested in her rationale. He resists the urge to step towards her, instead standing with his hands clasped behind his back.  

“Because…” She chooses her words with care, “If you speed up the invasions, they’ll be less efficient and there will be more margin for error. In fact…” Her voice trails off. “You may be going too quickly as it is.”

He jerks back.

“What do you mean?” He crosses his arms, wary but intrigued.

Rey takes a step forward.

“I mean,” she starts hesitantly. “It would be better if you slowed down enough to exercise some discretion.”

“Discretion?” He raises an eyebrow.

“ _Well_ …” she draws out the word. She looks down, pausing a moment. Finally, she looks up.

“Take what you did in the Minos Cluster, for example.” She squares her shoulders. “Now, I’m not saying you didn’t do a good thing,” she assures hastily. “Taking down Riker Vos, his whole organization…” Her eyes grow soft. “That was wonderful. They were truly evil. The Minos Cluster, the entire galaxy is safer without them.”

He grows warm as Rey looks up at him, welling with admiration.

But the warmth subsides when he sees clouds gather in her eyes.

“ _But_ …” He articulates the word, taking a step towards her.

Rey looks down, her shoulders dropping.

“But,” she continues quietly. “You began the invasion with a series of aerial assaults, destroying the gang’s bases of operation in one fell swoop.”

“So?” He shrugs.

“When you did that…” Rey stares at the floor, her emotions deepening into compassion. “You didn’t just kill all of Vos’s men.” She looks up. “You killed all of his slaves too.”

He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Those were _innocent people_.” Rey walks towards him, stopping a few feet away. “They didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t even their choice to be there.”

“ _I know that_.” His tone is clipped. “But innocent people always die in war, Rey. That’s just the nature of it.”

“But they don’t have to!” She shoots forward, just under him now. “Whether or not more or less innocent people die in a war is up to those in charge, the decisions that they make, like whether to blast everyone to bits in an aerial assault or go in with ground forces and target _selectively_.”

Kylo rolls his eyes, turning as she finishes. He steps towards the throne, bringing a hand to his jaw. He stares at the floor, deep in thought.

How can he get her to understand the position he’s in, the things he has consider in these situations?

He thinks for a minute before snapping up, a memory springing to mind. He turns back to Rey.

“Do you ever have an occasion to speak to my mother?”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Uh… y-yes,” she stutters. “Sometimes.” She looks at him curiously.  

“The next time you see her...” He steps forward. “Ask her about the Sallow Men.”

“And what will she tell me?” She narrows her eyes.

“The truth, I hope.”

“And what’s that?” She tilts her head.

Kylo purses his lips.

 “When I was a boy and she was a senator…” he steps towards her. “The Sallow Men were one of the worst criminal organizations in the galaxy. They were slavers, ran half the black markets in the Outer Rim, gave the New Republic all kinds of trouble. So, finally, the Senate decided to create a military alliance against them.” He halts. “I was on the Senate floor when they were debating about how to begin the attack.”

Rey looks at him with intense interest, completely engaged.

“They argued about the very thing you brought up.” He steps forward again. “Should they take out all the major bases and kill everyone inside, including the slaves, or should they go in with ground forces and try to spare them?” He stops just a foot in front of her, and she looks up intently, eager for him to finish.

“So?” She raises an eyebrow. “What did the Senate decide?”

He looks down coolly for a moment.

“They decided to go in with ground forces,” he informs her. “And do you know what happened?”

She shakes her head.

He leans in, bringing his face closer to hers.

“The Sallow Men used the slaves as human shields,” he reveals darkly.

 Her eyes widen in horror.

“They forced them to create a perimeter around the bases. By the end of it all, not only did most of the slaves die but _considerably_ more alliance forces died with them.”

Rey looks up in utter shock. For a few seconds, she just gapes, horrified. Then she looks away, eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to process the facts of the story, the implications of it.

He straightens, observing as she processes. At first, she churns with uncertainty and doubt. But after a minute, he feels her harden. She looks back up with a piercing gaze.

“And if I asked you mother for another example,” she challenges. “Another time when a similar strategy was used and it _saved lives_ , would she be able to give me one? More than one?” She cocks her head.

Kylo holds in a sigh. Instead of answering, he turns and starts walking towards the throne.

“You know...” Rey follows behind him. “I’m sure that to you, the lives of slaves are nothing. They’re just the little people. But even _so-called_ little people matter, Ben.”

He halts.

She circles around to plant herself in front of him, eyes fixed on his.

“Do you have any idea how many slaves there are in the galaxy?” She asks pointedly.

He doesn’t respond.

“ _Millions_ ,” she intones. “Millions and _growing_ , at an alarming rate, actually. That’s a lot of people, Ben.” Her tone darkens. “ _A lot_. Much more than any Resistance. Maybe you shouldn’t be so careless with their lives. Because one day, they might just notice. And then, well…” She raises an eyebrow.

It takes Kylo a moment, but soon the weight of realization descends upon him, what she’s implying. When it hits, he steps around Rey, heading up to the throne, bringing a hand to his jaw. 

_A slave rebellion._

Now that’s an outcome he’s never considered before. In all the time he’s spent imagining different scenarios, different possible obstacles in consolidating power, he never once considered a slave uprising.

But is it even possible? How could such a scattered lot ever hope to become organized? Surely that kind of large-scale effort would be unlikely. _Surely_ …

Kylo stares down, storming with thought. Without thinking, he turns and sits on the throne, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees.

He looks up when Rey shifts, taking a seat on a step nearby.

Kylo watches at her, deliberating…

Maybe she’s right. Maybe they should start some of the invasions with ground forces.

 _Some_ of them. Reserve it for gangs like the Merdos Syndicate? Ones with a particularly nasty reputation. It will certainly give credence to their claim that these invasions are _helping_ the local populations…

But it will drag out the length of the assault _significantly_. They’ll have to stagger the invasions, spend more time planning them. And they’ll lose more of their own forces.

He sighs, covering his eyes with a palm.

And if he chooses to go this way, Hux will _most definitely_ stir up more trouble. That alone is enough to make him reconsider…

He wipes his hand over his face, resting his back on the throne. He sighs, shaking his head.

Every now and then, he’d love nothing more than to forget about all of this, forget about being Supreme Leader, forget about obsessively planning for every _possible_ obstacle that lies ahead.

He needs a distraction, just a few measly minutes where his mind is occupied by something, _anything_ , else…

He closes his eyes.

Then suddenly, he opens them, sitting up. He turns to Rey sitting on the bottom step. She’s staring at the floor, lost in thought.

“So, what about you?” He asks abruptly.

She sits up, startled, looking over with knitted eyebrows.

“What were you thinking about before the bond this time?”

Her eyes widen and she looks down, a pang of fear in her chest.

Kylo tilts his head, intrigued by this reaction.

“Is that not what we’re doing?” He shrugs. “I assumed that’s why you were asking me about why I was here.” He gestures to the room.

Rey shakes her head violently, eyes fixed on the floor.

“ _No._ ” Her answer is strangely emphatic. “That’s not what I was doing. I was just… curious.” She rubs her thumb and index finger together anxiously.

He narrows his eyes.

“It was your idea, you know.” He dips his chin. “You’re the one who said we should start sharing what we were thinking of just before the bond happens.”

Rey shoots to her feet and walks away.

“Well, it was a _stupid idea_ ,” she snipes, crossing her arms. He feels her grow intensely guarded, armored, like when she first arrived.

Now Kylo’s _very_ intrigued. 

He studies her, a suspicion brewing in his mind. He rises slowly from the throne, never taking his eyes off Rey. He moves towards her cautiously.

She tenses at his approach.

“I’m not sure it was.” He stops behind her. “The more we learn about the trigger, the closer we get to controlling it.”

“We _can’t_ control it,” Rey snaps, twitching. She turns and heads towards the oculus, suddenly eager to create space between them.

“You don’t know that.” Kylo follows her. “It doesn’t hurt to try. And you’re the one who’s always searching for the bond’s purpose. Don’t you think this will help you discover it?”

Rey slows, groaning. She halts, drawing her shoulders to her ears.

He pauses just behind her.

“Come on, Rey,” he goads. “It’s not that hard. Just tell me.”

She twitches, irritated.

Then, she whips around.

“You know, you didn’t exactly tell me what you were thinking about before bond,” she accuses caustically.

“What do you mean?” He flits his head. “The Outer Rim invasions. Hux wanting to speed them up like an idiot.”

“And that’s all?” She raises an eyebrow.

He stares evenly for a few seconds. Finally, he looks away.

“And…” He tenses. “The fact that I can’t seem to keep Hux under control.” He clenches his fists, hating the sound of those words uttered out loud.

“Well, fancy that.” Rey grunts.

He looks up to find her eying him smugly.

“You’ve finally found something beyond your control.” A smile teases her lips.

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He crosses his arms. “Now you know what I was thinking about. Your turn.”

She stiffens and turns her back to him. She walks away, frenzied, like she’s desperately searching her mind for what to say.

“I was thinking…” She slows, her voice trailing off. “I was thinking about when I healed you in the training room. I was wondering…” She halts. “I was wondering if I could do it again on someone else.”

Kylo gapes at Rey.

What a _terrible_ liar.

He doesn’t need the bond, hell he doesn’t even need to be Force-sensitive, to know that was a lie.

He shakes his head briskly, trying to recover from the shock of it, from the fact that _she_ of all people would tell a bold-faced lie. And considering what it was regarding, he is now _madly_ curious to know the truth.

He observes her for a few moments, then looks down, considering how to approach this. After some thought, he moves towards her, stopping just at her back.

She tenses.

“ _Rey_.” He draws out her name. “Are you sure?” His tone is knowing, as though the answer is obvious.

She scoffs, whipping around.

“ _What?_ You think I’m lying to you?” She barely conceals a flash of alarm.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

For a split second, her eyes widen but she soon hardens in defiance.

“Well, _you’re wrong_ ,” she spits, then turns a heel, walking to the oculus.

“I hate to tell you this, Rey.”

She slows at the sound of his voice.

“But you are _not_ a good liar. Add that to the fact that I’m Force sensitive and we’re bonded…” He grunts, shaking his head. “You can deny it all you want, but I know you’re lying.”

She halts outright, dropping her shoulders.

He stands where he is, unmoving, just observing, curious to see how she’ll respond.

She sighs, her head bowed and her arms crossed. She shifts awkwardly, the manifestation of an inner war… to deny or give in? Finally, she drops her arms at her sides.

“It’s just…” She begins, growing nervous, suddenly feeling very exposed. “It’s not something easily put into words. I’m not even sure I can put it into words. So, I just… said something else instead.”

He regards her softly, sensing her vulnerability, a tender spot.

“Ok,” he says quietly, uncrossing his arms. “Would it be easier to show me?”

She turns around, eyebrows knitted. She immediately registers his meaning when she sees his face.

“ _Oh, no_.” She bristles at the suggestion. “ _Definitely_ not.”

He tilts his head.

“Seems like a reasonable alternative to me.” He squints, half in challenge, half in suspicion.  

“No. Not happening.” She shakes her head, then steps to the side, brushing past him.

He pushes out an exhale, annoyed at how quickly she dismisses this idea. How does he get her to reconsider...?

Then, suddenly, it hits him. Something he’d forgotten about. But now is the _perfect_ time to remember.

He turns around slyly as Rey walks away.

“I’m calling in my favor,” he announces.

She halts, twisting to face him.

“What favor?” She demands.

“Remember the conditions you agreed to? When I let you into my mind to see…” He gulps, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat.

Rey’s eyes widen in recognition. They drop to the floor a moment later when she realizes what this means, the favor he’s asking. She grows uneasy, furrowing her eyebrows and staring down.  

“But—” She stops, not knowing where to go.

“But what?” He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not comparable?”

She glances up, her lips straightening into a thin line. She opens her mouth to speak, but still has nothing to say. She looks down again, tightening her arms around herself.  

“It’s perfectly comparable.” He steps towards her. “You have something, something that was on your mind when the bond brought us together, that you can’t articulate. So, you let me inside your head. It’s the exact same situation, just reversed.”

Her shoulders sink as he approaches, weighed down by the miserable acceptance that he’s right.

“Perfectly comparable.” He stops just a foot in front of her.

She’s stiff, hunching and drawing herself in, trying to make herself small, as if she could somehow disappear into thin air.  

“Come on, Rey,” he goads softly. “All the same conditions apply. I’ll stay on task, it will only be a minute, and we won’t talk about it afterwards.”

She sighs, her eyes fixed on the floor, self-conscious and deeply reluctant.

“What was it you told me?” He tilts his head. “All you have to do is stand there and think.”

She groans at hearing her own words reflected back at her.

“What do you say?”

She doesn’t answer him. She just stands, tense and perfectly still. A minute passes in silence and he feels her vulnerability deepen into something else.

Fear.

She’s scared. _Very_ scared. There’s something about the prospect of doing this that she finds utterly terrifying.

As Rey stares at the floor, holding onto herself for dear life, Kylo feels a wave of compassion overtake him.

He is _dying_ to know what she’s hiding from him.

But… he’s not willing to put her through this to find out.

“Rey,” he says gently, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

She jerks back the moment he touches her, jumping out of her skin.

He instantly withdraws and takes a step back, confused and not a little hurt by her reaction. She still refuses to look at him.

“Forget about it,” he says in a low voice. “If makes you feel like this, then I don’t want to know.” He lingers for a moment, baffled by her behavior. Then he turns, churning with a mixture of disappointment, tenderness, and concern.  

The throne room is silent except for the click of his boots as he strides away.

“Do it.”

He halts at the sound of Rey’s voice. He turns to see her approaching swiftly, urgent and resolved.

“Do it,” she repeats, stopping in front of him. “Get it over with. Come on.” She gestures towards herself impatiently.

“Are you sure?” He knits his eyebrows, put off by the sudden change.

“ _Yes-I’m-sure_.” She says the words so quickly, they jumble together. “Just get on with it. Every second you wait, you make it worse. So, come on.” She gestures to herself again, then crosses her arms and braces herself, looking down.

He looks down as she stands, tense and ready. He narrows his eyes, reconsidering whether this is a good idea…

“ _Come on!_ ” She shouts, snapping up. “What are you waiting for!?”

“Alright, alright,” he answers, struggling to adapt to her urgency.

She closes her eyes and looks down.

He crosses his arms and closes his own eyes, then pushes carefully into her mind.

She immediately stiffens, that nervous, exposed feeling returning in a powerful wave.

But she doesn’t fight him. Instead, she quickly directs him to his destination, the reason he’s here.

She replays the scene in her mind. The training room. Healing him. The images, the emotions flash by…

It looks so different from her perspective, so unfamiliar. It’s a strange kind of disassociation, seeing himself through another’s eyes.

He wishes he could say he enjoys the view.

But no… He’s ashamed by what he sees.

He’s yelling at her, eyes cutting, nostrils flared. He’s bearing over her, bullying her. Painful jolts of shock and hurt rip through her and he looks pleased with himself, face twisted into a satisfied smirk. Then, there’s the blue of the training room floor followed by darkness.

And her emotions, her thoughts overwhelm him, drawing him so deep that he loses himself in her.

She feels so hurt, so lost. Maybe he’s right? Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The Force. The Dark Side. The Light Side. She doesn’t know what it all means. She doesn’t know the history, the practice, the theory. She feels so blind sometimes, like she’s crawling through life on her hands and her knees, reaching desperately in the darkness, trying to find her way…

But she knows what she feels in her heart.

And that’s what it was. That’s what ultimately drove her to extend her hand and do what she did.

She’s thought about it a thousand times. _How did she do it?_

She still has no idea. She didn’t act with intention, she acted on instinct, a deep, primal desire, one she wasn’t even aware of at the time. It’s only now, after _hours upon hours_ of reflection, that she realized what happened was only a shadow, a disappointment.

And now that she’s figured it out, what she really wanted to do in that moment, the memory of it breaks her heart.

Because she didn’t reach out to heal his shoulder. 

She reached out to heal his soul.

She just wanted to reach into him, push past all his anger and resentment and self-loathing, to that brokenness inside him, like the crack in his kyber crystal, and mend it, so deeply, so thoroughly, that there wouldn’t even be a scar left.

Then, she would just sit back and watch, watch all of his rage roll back like clouds, dark and stormy billows sweeping away to reveal the sun, everything else he is.

Generous. Protective. Loyal. Kind.

The man who wants to build things. The man who’s driven to become a fair and just leader. The man who seeks advice, who’s willing to listen, because he wants to become better, smarter, wiser.

The man who wants to be like his father, who can be just as infuriating and lovable as he was, and just as strong. The man who’s more like his mother than even he knows— decisive, confident, commanding but also tender and gentle, soft and considerate.

The man who could be so caring, so merciful, so compassionate if only he’d stop trying to kill the best parts of himself.

The man who encourages her, empowers her, makes her feel like she’s special, inspires her to push her limits, to challenge herself, to grow.

And it’s just not right, it’s not fair, that she’s the only person in the galaxy who ever sees this man. She can think of so many places where he’s needed, wanted, where he would be _welcomed_. She shouldn’t be the only one to benefit from his guidance, his kindness, his concern.

The more she gets to know him, the more it _kills_ her that he spends most of his time buried under rage, a practiced anger converted from that brokenness inside him.

She just wants to set this man free— Ben Solo. Destroy Kylo Ren for good and set him free.

 _That’s_ what she wanted to do in the training room. Not mend a wounded shoulder.

She wishes she could say that her motivations were pure, that she wanted to do this for the good of the galaxy, out of the goodness of her heart.  

But the truth is her reasons were selfish.

She just wants Ben Solo, misses him and wants him around more.

She misses his company, his conversation, how he challenges her but also supports her, encourages her. She misses hearing his perspective, his experiences. She even finds herself missing his smart-ass sense of humor.

Mostly she misses the way he sees her, _really_ sees her, in a way that no one else does. No one else sees her cry, or knows her most deep-seated fears. No one else knows that she thinks of the Falcon as her home, or that she’s scared of lightening in a thunderstorm, or that she worries she’ll never discover her true destiny. Everyone else sees what she wants them to see, usually her survivor’s armor, a hard exterior that projects confidence and self-sufficiency, that hides all of her vulnerabilities.

But she can’t hide that from Ben Solo because she’s bonded to him. She can’t lie or pretend that everything’s fine, because he feels what she feels. When they’re together, everything that hurts in her hurts in him and visa versa. She has no choice but to show him her true face.

That’s why, at the end of the day, he’s her closest friend, the person who knows her better than anyone.

The fact is that he’s the only one who understands her, understands how she can feel so lonely, so isolated, even when she’s surrounded by friends. He’s the first person she wants to talk to when something’s troubling her. Whenever she’s feeling scared or broken, she finds herself wishing he were there, just to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her everything’s going to be alright. Because she’s never felt more at home than his arms, never more content, more protected, more loved—

Suddenly, Rey jerks back, eyes flying open. It’s so jarring, that Kylo reacts without thinking, ejecting himself from her mind.

But not before the realization hit her. He was there for that. He was in her mind, in her heart, when that wave of emotions washed over her and for the first time, she recognized it for what it was.

Love.

She loves him. Just as much as he loves her.

She looks up, eyes wide with shock.

Kylo doesn’t think, doesn’t deliberate, doesn’t question. He just acts.

He steps forward, capturing her lips with his own, pulling her into him, an arm behind her waist, a hand at the back of her head, taking her hungrily like he’s wanted to do for _so damn long_ , like he’s imagined doing _every day_ since he first extended his hand towards her and offered everything he had to give.

At first, she’s stiff and awkward, unsure of herself. But she soon follows her first instinct, just melting into him, giving into the moment, what she feels in her body and her heart. She slides her palms up his chest, curling her fingers behind his neck and into his hair.

They open their mouths, taking each other in, losing themselves in the physical sensations—the wet, the warmth, their muscles trembling with desire— but also the emotional experience, the oneness of a shared love flowing between them.

Time and space fades away, leaving only the heat, the blood racing through their veins, the gripping and pulling of flesh as one kiss blends into the next one, then the next, then the next…

It’s perfect.

Until he feels her stiffen, seizing with panic. She slides her palms to his chest and starts pushing him away.

He releases her lips, but keeps her close, an arm behind her waist, a gloved hand cupping the back of her head. They’re both panting and trembling, and she’s starting to cry, tears pouring down her cheeks. She pushes against him but he resists, bringing his lips to her ear.

“ _Don’t_ fight this, Rey,” he begs, his voice just above a whisper. “Please. _Please_.” The last word comes out breathless, desperate.

She starts to cry harder, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

He pulls back, just an inch away, framing her face with both hands, brushing away her tears. He lingers a moment, eyes pleading, before resting his forehead on hers.

“ _Don’t_ fight this.” He shakes his head. “ _Please._ Please. You’re always…” He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, glistening with tears. “You’re always searching for the bond’s purpose, what it’s for…” He drops a hand to her waist.

“ _This is what it’s for_.” He descends, his lips at her ear. “It’s for us to be together. _Like this_. Part of you has to _know_ that.” He feels her shake with a fresh round of sobs.

He pulls back, an agony of emotions ripping through him, both his own and hers, all of the love and desire and fear and pain, weighing his heart down with a crushing burden.

Her eyes drift to his, barely visible through the tears, and suddenly Kylo feels everything she’s experiencing, everything storming inside her, sharpen into one, unmistakable emotion.

Sheer terror.

She freezes, her body stiff like a statue. She stares up at him, lips parted, eyes wide.

Then in an instant, she’s gone, her warm body disappearing in his arms, nothing left but cold air and the smooth, black floor below.

Kylo staggers, reeling, his mind not fully convinced that what just happened was real.

He stands in the throne room, numbed and unable to move, alone in the deafening silence. 


	21. Enemies?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren struggles to find enough Kyber to finish the construction of Starkiller 2

Kylo Ren makes his way through the winding annals of the cave, walking slowly, purposefully.

The only sound is the dull thud of his boots against the cracked earth and the occasional pitter-patter of tiny feet, creatures scurrying across the rocky walls.  

He’s deep underground, at least a hundred meters below the surface. It should be pitch black, impossible to see even a hand in front of his face.

But this is a kyber cave.

The narrow tunnels are illuminated by the bluish-white light of the crystals clustered all along the walls and the ceiling several feet above his head. In some areas, it’s so bright he has to close his eyes, protect them from the painful glow of the larger clusters jutting out from the side, from above.

It’s a relatively large deposit, covering about a half mile radius within the labyrinthine tunnels.

 _Finally_.   

Finding kyber in this galaxy has become next to impossible. He has over a dozen teams searching, searching _everywhere_ , turning over every rock in every shithole planet in the Mid Rim, the Outer Rim, the colonies, the unknown regions, _everywhere_.

And yet, they still don’t have what they need. Not even close.

It’s not surprising, really. In the past several decades, the largest kyber deposits have disappeared en masse. First, it was the Empire, ransacking every last crystal from the caves of Illum to create the Death Star. Then it was Snoke, who converted his massive trove of kyber into Starkiller Base.

Kyber has always been the galaxy’s rarest mineral, but now it must be on the verge of extinction, or at least Kylo can only imagine so given how _infuriatingly_ difficult it’s been to find. At the rate they’re going, it will be _years_ before they mine enough to finish Starkiller 2.

Kylo groans inwardly.

And it’s not just finding the damn stuff. Kyber is _maddeningly_ difficult to mine, the only mineral that actively resists removal, rooting itself deeper into its source. They need to start the extraction here as soon as possible.

He just needs to make sure Rey’s crystal isn’t here first.  

He continues forward at a measured pace, closing his eyes every now and then to concentrate, to listen, listen for that voiceless song.

Who knows what it will sound like? Maybe the wind whipping through trees. Maybe the low hum of the ocean floor. Or maybe shifting sands, grains pouring over one another, creating a soft crackle. That would suit her…

But he won’t know until he hears it. And he’s been searching this cave for an hour and hasn’t heard it yet.

Perhaps it’s because her crystal isn’t here. Or perhaps it’s because he can’t concentrate worth a damn. He tries to focus, to clear his mind, empty it of all thoughts and images.

But he can’t go five minutes without being there all over again. 

Kylo slows his pace until he halts outright, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

God, it really was exactly as he imagined it. So, strange… what was once a fantasy is now a memory. _Real_. Dynamic. Sensual. He can almost feel her soft lips on his, her fingers running through his hair, her trembling body in his arms. She just _melted_ , gave into everything she was feeling, gave herself to him so completely, so utterly.

It was perfect.

Almost.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head briskly, bringing his mind back to the task at hand— the kyber cave, finding Rey’s crystal. He steps forward again, resuming a measured pace, his mind open and receptive. But it’s not long before he starts to drift again…

That final image flashes, her looking up at him with wide eyes, mouth gaping, absolutely _panicked_.

He sighs.

She reacted about how he expected she would, pushing him away in sheer terror.

He doesn’t blame her for being scared. He understands why she would be. He was scared at first, when he realized what was happening, what it meant. But in time, he came to accept it, embrace it, and she will too. He is _certain_ of this.

Because he knows exactly how she feels. He was there, inside her mind, inside her heart, experiencing all of her emotions for himself. She wants him, yearns for him, just as much as he does her. She feels how much they belong together, how they were _made_ for each other, two halves of a whole.

She knows this in her heart. It’s only her head that needs to catch up. And it will. He can be patient. He’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.

He’s close. _So close_. Close to having everything he wants…

Yet, there is a problem. And not an insignificant one.

Kylo sighs again, more heavily this time, bringing a palm to cover his eyes. He keeps it there for a moment, then drags it slowly over his face, his body becoming weary with exasperation.

He should have known.

It’s so obvious in retrospect. _Of course_ she still wants him to turn, to become Ben Solo again. Like it’s so simple, like Ben Solo and Kylo Ren are neatly compartmentalized in his mind, easily pulled apart at the seam. She has _no idea_. She never has. And now he’s starting to worry that she never will…

There will always be a part of him that’s Ben Solo. He’s accepted that now. He doesn’t like it, but he accepts it.

But he _is_ Kylo Ren. He always has been, even before he ever uttered the name. The ambition, the rage, the natural disposition for power… It’s always been there. From the very beginning. He just didn’t know what to call it.

Rey is a _fool_ if she thinks she can kill Kylo Ren without killing Ben Solo with him.

He clenches his fists as he stalks through the maze of tunnels, not really paying attention to where he’s going, where he’s been. He turns a sharp corner and is suddenly met by the blinding light of a large kyber cluster jutting out from the ceiling. He immediately whips a palm up and closes his eyes.

Then he sucks in a breath, jarred by the abrupt return to reality and annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander _yet again_. If he can’t force himself to concentrate, he’ll be spending the whole damn night in this cave…

He walks forward, his eyes still closed, stepping around the large crystal extending from the ceiling. He continues at a purposeful pace, devoting every last shred of willpower he has left into clearing away the persistent thoughts nagging at his focus.

But it’s no use. They pour in, unchecked, unfiltered, an unstoppable deluge covering everything in its path.

He rolls his eyes and absently turns his back to the cave wall, sinking slowly to the dry, cracked earth. Once he settles, he leans against a rocky space between two clusters and runs his fingers through his hair, gazing up at the ceiling, the light of the crystals shimmering across his face.

But he doesn’t see them. Not really. He’s so lost in his thoughts, he might as well be blind.

He thinks about Rey, about what he saw and felt in her mind. And as he does, that strange sensation overtakes him, the one he gets every time he thinks about it— a contradiction. Both warm and cold. Warm in the memory of her emotions, what it feels like to be wanted, admired, loved. Cold in the realization of what drives those emotions, who she thinks he is.

He hangs his head, the coldness usurping the warmth, seeming to freeze his heart in his chest.

The truth is he’s not sure who she’s in love with. The man he saw in her mind… he doesn’t recognize him. He’s not even sure he exists, how she could be seeing that in him.

Generous. Considerate. Kind.

That’s not who he is.

And compassionate? _Merciful_?

That’s definitely not who he is. Maybe he’s that way with her but… That’s not who is most of the time.

And just like that, a deep and unnamed fear grips him, one he’s not quite able to consciously acknowledge. It just lingers, vague and menacing, at the corners of his mind. 

It haunts the foundation of his deepest desire, eating at it, a slow and imperceptible rot. His ultimate goal— Rey by his side, leading with him. He imagines it all the time, how different his life would be with Rey there day in and day out, helping him plan, negotiate, make decisions. But, if that were to happen… she would see. She would see who he _really_ is. And when she does…

He stiffens and twitches his jaw, fighting to smother this horror before it becomes a fully formed thought, keep it locked in his subconscious where he doesn’t have to face it. He pushes out a long, purposeful exhale as though he could purge the unsettling feeling through his breath, just force it all out. He barely begins to take an inhale before he feels the change in him.

The warmth welling gradually at his core, familiar, comforting even.

And for the very first time, Kylo’s first reaction to the bond isn’t alarm or surprise or panic but _relief_. Pure, unadulterated relief.

He doesn’t know what will happen. He doesn’t know if they’ll argue or embrace, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s just tired of obsessing over what happened, wants to finally _face it_ , deal with it head on. Then maybe he can regain a modicum of control over his concentration…

He looks down, waiting impatiently, the rising warmth seeming to take twice as long before it crescendos into that final intensity, then dissipates just as quickly as it came. He immediately looks up and to the right.

For a split second, he sees Rey standing with crossed arms, head bowed and eyes closed, churning with nervous dread. But her head snaps up in an instant, and she looks around the cave with wide eyes. She turns to look behind her, stepping forward a few paces to see around the sharp curve of the tunnel.

He pushes up from the ground, rising slowly, regarding her all the while. He feels a snap of recognition in her followed by a powerful wave of emotion, that heavy, beautiful pain he’s come to know so well, and he can’t stop his lips from turning up as her feelings rush into him and blend in with his own.

She must have just realized what he’s doing, why he’s here. _Of course_ , she knows why he’s here.

Rey stands for a few seconds, her back to him, the wave quickly dying to transform back into that nervous anxiety churning in her when she first arrived. She begins to walk forward.

Kylo follows her.

She’s moving slowly, extending a hand to hover just an inch from the kyber clusters as she passes. Suddenly, she stops and turns to face one of them, sliding her fingers along the angled, cylinder shapes, arranged almost like a flower. He approaches and stops just next to her.

“So…” She gulps, still examining the crystals. “Is it here?” She turns, continuing down the tunnel. He immediately furrows his eyebrows.

Oh no. _No, no_. He’s not letting her avoid the subject, what happened between them.

“Rey _…_ ” He draws out her name with a knowing undertone. She picks up her pace. He rolls his eyes, then starts after her, following her around the sharp curve of the tunnel.

“Rey,” he repeats, closing the gap with swift strides. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking out the cave, of course.” She answers as though this is obvious, turning to start down another tunnel to the left.

“ _No_.” He turns with her, following close behind. “I mean why are you trying to run away, to avoid this.”

“How long have you been looking?” She asks casually, ignoring him.

“ _Rey!_ ” Now he sounds exasperated.

“How big is the deposit here? Bigger than the cave from last time?” She ducks around a large crystal jutting down from the ceiling.

“Rey, no.” He twitches his jaw as he follows. “Stop trying to avoid this. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“You’re here to find my crystal, aren’t you?” She turns down another tunnel. “That’s the subject right now, is it not?” Kylo halts dead, sucking in a sharp breath, his blood starting to boil in his veins.

He pushes out an exhale and begins charging after her.

“Rey, _don’t_.” He approaches so quickly that he nearly rams into her when she abruptly stops to examine a cluster to her right. “We need to deal with this. You can’t just pretend nothing happened.”  She visibly tenses for a moment, that dread gathering at the pit of her stomach, then turns a heel and continues along the long, broad curve of the tunnel.

Kylo sighs, dropping his shoulders. He follows her, slowly this time, crossing his arms, starting to grow weary.

Now she’s kneeling in front of a rather large cluster close to the ground. Her eyes are closed and her face appears calm, at peace. He stops just next to her, squinting down, eyes sharp with vexation.

“Rey, please,” he urges softly. “Don’t drag this out. Don’t make this worse for both of us.”

She ignores him completely, seeming not to see him or be aware of him at all. A minute passes in silence. He regards her, irritated, baffled.

Suddenly, she opens her eyes, letting out a long sigh.

“Too bad.” She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “It’s not here.”

“Rey, just stop it. Stop trying to distract—” Suddenly, he jerks back and cocks his head, staring down at her curiously, the realization creeping in quickly. The moment it hits, he instantly drops to his knees with a rush of excitement.

“ _You_.” He points finger at her, his eyes narrowing in knowing suspicion. “You can understand the crystals now, _communicate_ with them, can’t you?”

Rey turns her head towards him slyly, answering his question with the smile on her lips and the glimmer in her eyes.

“How? What did you do?” He demands insistently.

“I just did what you said.” She shrugs as if it were nothing. “I stayed in the cave and listened. I listened for _days_. Then I came back every now and then, once, twice, three times, and did the same thing. Just listened. Then somewhere along the line I…” Her voice trails off and she looks up to the ceiling with a kind of awe in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she continues softly. “I just started to hear them, _really_ hear them. Hear what they were saying.”

He begins nodding his head as she finishes speaking, a swell of affirmation rising in his chest. That’s _exactly_ what he’d hoped she would do. Now he’s glad he decided to leave that deposit untouched, didn’t send an extraction team to start digging it all out…

“So, you can talk to them?” He leans in, eager to hear more.

“ _Oh no_ ,” Rey blusters, shaking her head like the question is ridiculous. “Just barely. I really only know how to ask them one question.”

“Where your crystal is?” He confirms. She gives a small nod. He knits his eyebrows, confused.

 “And they haven’t told you yet?”

She immediately rolls her eyes. “ _No_.” She twitches a little, annoyed. “These ones are just like the others. They’ll tell me whether or not it’s here, but not where it _actually_ is.”

Kylo grunts, intrigued. “Why not?” He demands.

Rey’s eyes grow distant as she looks off into space, shaking her head slightly. “I’m not sure,” she answers carefully. “I don’t really understand their answer. Something about…” she pauses, scrunching her face a bit, searching for the right words. “Waiting for the exchange?” She finishes, uncertain. “That might not be the right word. I don’t know.” She shrugs her shoulders, glancing at him briefly before looking down.

He purses his lips, a burning question on his mind.

“So…” he begins slowly, sliding his jaw to the side. “Do you think they’d tell you where other kyber deposits are, other places your crystal could be?”

“Probably.” Rey looks up, nodding casually. “When I can figure out how to ask them. And if they trust me enough to answer.”

“They don’t trust you now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Not entirely.” She shakes her head. “They’re very guarded. Secretive. Yet open at the same time.” She looks away again, a slight smile on her lips. “They’re complicated. But funny. And kind of spunky, peculiar. I enjoy listening to them.” She looks back at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“So, what have you learned?” A smile teases the corner of his own lips now.

“Some _very_ interesting things,” she assures him with a sharp nod. Suddenly, she shoots to her feet and begins looking around the cave. “Like…” she continues as he rises to join her. She turns and starts to walk down the tunnel, holding her palms out on either side of her as though she can feel the power emanating from the crystals. He follows, watching her intently, fascinated.

“This cave, this kyber collective…” She steps forward purposefully, coming into a strangely dissonant inward state, like finding calm in chaos. “It’s young. Quite young. Less than fifty years.” He furrows his eyebrows, intrigued but doubtful.

“Are you sure?” He presses, following closely behind. “The vast majority of recorded kyber deposits in history, throughout the galaxy, are ancient, have been there for centuries as far as anyone knows.”

“Until recently, though, right?” She glides forward briskly, her palms still extended.  “So many of them are gone now. Like the caves of Illum? And there’s nothing at Christophis now, is there?”

“No, there’s not,” he answers slowly, thoughtfully. She turns smoothly down another tunnel.

“Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but they talk about Illum a lot. They’re very nostalgic about it.” She slows her pace a bit, moving to the side to touch some of the crystals lightly as she goes. “They miss the oneness of it. It’s their nature to want to be together like that, all in a giant collective.”

“Then why are the new deposits like this one so small?” He reaches out to brush his fingers along some of the crystals himself, briefly feeling their warm responsiveness to his touch.

“Self-preservation,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Do you think they liked being torn to bits at Illum and everywhere else? They’re hiding now. Splitting up and hiding. They feel like they have to.” Kylo trails after her, absolutely _absorbed_ , starting to understand what she’s telling him.

“So…” he begins in a measured tone. “Are you saying that when the crystals are destroyed in one place, they grow back in another?”

“ _Exactly_.” She answers, suddenly darting down a tunnel to the left. He turns swiftly after her. “That’s why there’s always the exact same amount of kyber in the galaxy at any given time. They crave balance, equilibrium. They’re creatures of balance.” He immediately slows, almost to a full stop, the realization rushing upon him at once.

Kyber’s not nearly extinct. If what Rey says is true, it never will be. It’s an _infinite_ resource. He just needs a way to find it…

He strides forward swiftly to close the gap between them.

“Do you know if there’s any method or pattern in how they’ve spread themselves out?” He slows as he comes up behind her.

“Not that I’ve heard,” she answers absently, running her hand down a large crystal jutting out into the walkway. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” She continues forward, briefly touching one crystal in each cluster to her right. “They just don’t seem to talk about that kind of thing. They’re much too absorbed in their politics.” Kylo stops dead.

“Kyber crystals have _politics?_ ” He asks in disbelief. Rey suddenly halts and whips around to face him with wide eyes.

“ _Oh yes_ ,” she answers emphatically. “Most definitely. You wouldn’t _believe_ the drama that goes on between the crystals in the last cave we were in. I’m sure this collective is no different.” She gestures at the crystals around her. “Always pestering one another, always bickering, always debating…” Kylo’s lips turn upward, amused.

“And what exactly do kyber crystals have to debate about?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm, crossing his arms and stepping towards her.

“Plenty of things. Everything.” She raises an eyebrow as through this should be obvious. “The wingspan of a Loth-bat. The quality of plankton in oceans across the galaxy. The longevity of an egoa tree.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Anything regarding life. They discuss even the tiniest lifeforms _endlessly_ , arguing about their nature, their dynamics, their purpose. They often disagree with one another, accuse each other of being small-minded or pretentious.” Kylo grunts and shakes his head, struck by this.

“It’s almost like you’re saying they have personalities,” he muses.

“They do.” Rey nods her head in earnest. She turns towards a cluster to her left, reaching out to slip her fingers along the angled surface of the center crystal. “Each crystal is an individual, with its own unique perspective.” He takes another step forward, stopping just next to her, staring down thoughtfully as she lightly touches each crystal in the cluster. His eyebrows knit together.

“You’re confused?” She asks without looking up at him. He clicks his tongue.

“It’s just that…” he starts carefully, “Everything that’s been discovered about kyber implies that they have a single consciousness, one mind. Even you yourself called them a collective.” 

“Oh, they are.” Her face snaps up towards his. “They think of themselves as a single being.” She withdraws her hand from the crystals and turns her body towards him. “Even in the midst of all their squabbling, they have a constant awareness that they’re one, all on the same side.” Her eyes drift up to the ceiling, suddenly growing soft, reverent even. “It’s beautiful, really,” she continues quietly. “I wish people could be like that.”

She gazes up at the crystals in wonder, their glow illuminating her delicate features, the smooth curve of her cheeks, the pink of her lips, the softness of her brown eyes. She looks so tender, so innocent…

He watches her, transfixed. Without thinking, he lifts a hand, extending it towards her face. The moment his fingers brush her cheek, her eyes snap to his, alarmed. But she quickly becomes absorbed in his dark gaze, locked intensely on hers. She stares up at him, unmoving, as he caresses her soft skin, then slides his fingers along the curve of her jaw.

He stops at her chin, taking it gently with a thumb and index finger. He gazes at her for a moment, the leans down, turning her face up to his as he descends to meet her.

But just before their lips touch, Rey violently jerks away, stepping back from him.

“ _Don’t_.” She shakes her head briskly with a mixture of warning and fear. He takes a broad step forward, eliminating all but of inch of space between them, never taking his eyes off hers. She tries to step back but finds her progress impeded by a very large crystal jutting out of the wall behind her.

“Why not?” He intones in a low voice, his gaze still piercing hers. She looks up at him with troubled eyes, seeming at a loss for words. He lifts a hand again to her face again, brushing back a strand of hair. “Why are you fighting this?” He shakes his head, his voice tender but impatient.

For a few seconds, she says nothing. She only stares up at him, wrestling internally with her answer. Suddenly, he feels her emotions darken, manifesting as a storm brewing in her eyes. She juts her chin up.

“What are you doing in this cave?” She asks, cocking her head.

“You know what I’m doing,” he answers flatly.   

“ _No._ ” She practically cuts him off. “I mean what is the _First Order_ doing here?” She spits out the question with the fire of a challenge. He clenches his jaw and stares down at her impassively, not saying a word. She glares at him for a few seconds, then suddenly, before he can react, she pushes into his mind and plucks out the answer for herself.

He immediately steps back, shocked. Her eyes widen in fury and she lunges forward.

“You’re here to mine kyber so you can build a weapon that will destroy an entire _star system!_ ” She accuses forcefully, standing just under him, eyes like lasers. “ _That’s_ why I’m fighting this.” She glares at him for a moment more before crossing her arms and stepping around him, absolutely fuming. He hears her walk a few feet away then stop.

Kylo sighs heavily, then turns around towards her. He steps forward and her shoulders visibly tense.

“The _entire_ Hosnian system.” She articulates each syllable, looking up to the ceiling. “ _Billions_ of people. Gone just like that.” She snaps her fingers, then whips around and charges towards him. “How could so many lives mean so little to you, Ben? _How?_ ” Her eyes aren’t angry anymore but pleading, desperate even, some version of himself he barely recognizes reflected in them.

He looks down at her blankly for a few seconds, smothering that unnamed fear creeping around the corners of his mind again. Finally, he straightens and squares his shoulders.

“We won’t use it unless we have to, Rey,” he informs her coolly. “It’s really more of a symbol, a threat to keep rogue systems in line.” She immediately scoffs, letting out a half laugh.

“ _Oh yes_.” Her tone is dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re going through all this trouble—spending all this money and time and effort— to build a weapon you _never_ intend to use. That makes all kinds of sense.”  Her face is ingenious but she’s clearly mocking him. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“Rey, you don’t understand,” he starts dismissively. “You don’t realize what it takes to keep this galaxy in order.”

“I understand that people’s lives _matter_ ,” she nearly cuts him off. “They shouldn’t just be fodder for someone else’s power play, a demonstration to prove a point.” She looks away from him, hardening her jaw and tightening her arms around her body.

“Rey—”

“Ben, _don’t_.” She interrupts him, raising a halting hand. “I don’t want to argue about this. There isn’t even an argument to be had, as far as I’m concerned. I just brought it up to show…” Her voice trails off and she drops her arms by her side. “Why _this_ can’t happen,” she gestures emphatically between herself and him a couple of times. 

“And why is that?” He demands. Her eyes immediately widen in furious exasperation.

“Because we’re _enemies_. Don’t you get it?” Her arms fly out on either side of her. She steps forward, pointing at him. “You’re the head of an authoritarian regime that slaughters innocent people for power.” She points at herself. “I’m a member of an organization that’s _sole purpose_ is to stop you.” She gestures a hand in front of her as if presenting something. “ _Enemies_.” She takes a step back, letting the word linger in the air. He looks away, standing quietly for a few moments.

“Is that really how you think of me?” He asks in a low voice. “As your enemy?” He looks back at her with gentle eyes. Her shoulders gradually drop and she parts her lips as she takes a deep breath, welling with a sad kind of tenderness.

“You know I don’t.” She answers in a whisper, gazing up at him softly. “But…” She maintains her gaze as her voice trails off, her throat appearing to tighten as her sadness deepens. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just because that’s not who I see most of the time, doesn’t mean that’s not who you are.” He twitches his jaw, fighting off the dread seeping slowly into his gut. She continues to look up at him for a few seconds, then turns away, walking a few steps down the tunnel as a crushing silence descends.

“Surely, you must think of _me_ as your enemy, at least sometimes,” she says quietly after a minute, her back still to him.

“No,” he answers decisively. “Never.” She turns around to face him.

“Then how do you think of me?” She shrugs her shoulders, at a loss. He takes a broad step forward, eyes fixed resolutely on hers.

“I think of you as my _partner_.” He raises his eyebrows as he emphasizes the word. She looks up at him, confused, not immediately catching his meaning. But the weight of realization soon descends swiftly. Her eyes widen, and she pushes out an exasperated exhale.

“You _have got_ to be kidding,” she utters in disbelief, more to herself than to him. She starts shaking her head and turning away again. She walks a few more steps down the tunnel then stops, burying her face in her palms and groaning.

“ _Ben_.” The name comes out muffled, her face still in her hands. Suddenly, she drops her arms to the side, rolling her head back to look up at the ceiling. “ _How_ _could you possibly_ —” She starts but almost immediately stops, flustered. “I mean—” She tries again but still doesn’t get anywhere. She bows her head and wraps her arms tightly around herself, trying to contain her frustration, rising steadily to its boiling point.

In the next instant, she abruptly whips around and charges towards him, her eyes intense with rock hard resolve.

“If you think that I could _ever_ be a part of the First Order, a part of what you do—” She points at him emphatically with an index finger. “Then you are a _fool_.” She spits at him, eyes boring into his.

Her words hit him like a barrage of blaster fire, ripping through him, tearing holes in all his plans, all his hopes for the future.

She whips back and stalks away from him, crossing her arms again, hunching her shoulders into her ears. She stops a few paces away and just stands there for a few seconds, absolutely _fuming_.  

But her frustration is soon joined by other emotions that rush in and overwhelm her, sweeping away all of the anger and leaving nothing left but disappointment and a deep, aching sadness. Her shoulders droop as she hangs her head, that painful ache pulling her apart. She gulps and Kylo could swear he actually _feels_ her holding back tears as she turns and makes her way slowly to a part of the cave sparsely populated with crystals, finding a large section of the wall between two clusters and slowly taking a seat.

He watches her, completely still, frozen, churning with her emotions and his, unable to distinguish between them.

It nags at him too. That ache. The pain of a harsh reminder, the chasm of difference between them— Different goals. Different dreams. Different hopes. Different fears.

It’s _maddening_.

Because he _knows_ they belong together. There’s nothing that can change that. Even right now, in this moment, a moment when they’ve never seemed farther apart, when their divisions have never been more apparent, he still _feels_ that it’s their destiny to be one, that this is what the bond is all about. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. 

But… how? How is this to be achieved? How do they move from here to there? How do they reconcile differences that by all appearances are irreconcilable? 

He lets out a long, heavy sigh, finally willing himself to move. He steps forward, making his way over to Rey slowly. He’s only a couple of feet when he stops and takes a seat next to her, settling on the ground and planting his feet, leaning forward a bit to rest his forearms on his knees. He stares down and not at Rey.

She does the same. Her eyes are cast downward as she sits cross-legged, leaning back against the wall. They sit quietly for a few minutes, just churning. Churning with one another’s emotions.

“So, nothing’s changed.” Rey breaks the silence in a low voice. Kylo glances over at her and is met with solemn eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asks softly. She grunts, looking down briefly then back up.

“I mean we’re right back where we started.” She shakes her head wearily. “Back in the throne room. Back to wanting _completely_ different things from one another. Back to being _so certain_ the other person is wrong.” She grunts again in disbelief, then shrugs her shoulders, completely at a loss. Her eyes are almost pleading, like she’s begging him to tell her she’s wrong, that they aren’t so opposed after all.  

He twitches his jaw, thinking for a few seconds.

“Not exactly,” he says finally. She immediately shifts to face him, uncrossing her legs and tucking them under her body, sitting back on her calves. She rests her palms on her thighs and squares her shoulders, staring at him with a firm, direct gaze.

“So, what’s changed? What’s the difference between then and now?” She demands this like a challenge, like she knows there’s only one answer.

He stares at her quietly for a moment, unmoving. Then he shifts to face her as well, letting one knee fall to the ground as he scoots towards her, so close that his shin grazes her and his right foot is planted just beside her knees. She leans away from him a bit, her eyes guarded, but doesn’t move.

He lifts hand and once again brings it to her face, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She flinches slightly, but doesn’t stop him. He drops his hand to gently grip her chin with a thumb and index finger, then turns her face up as his lips descend to hers.

They connect softly, tenderly, a long, lingering kiss that’s so gentle it’s all the more intense that such a light touch could instantly set their heartbeats racing and their muscles weak with longing. His thumb caresses the smooth angle of her jaw just as he pulls away. He stays close, only a few inches from her face, dark eyes locked on hers.

He watches as a series emotions play across her face, first understanding, then longing, and finally sadness. Her eyes begin to glisten, more and more, until a single tear slips down her cheek. Kylo brushes it away softly, then cups the right side of her face with his large hand.

Rey squeezes her eyes shut, another tear escaping down her cheek, and turns her face slightly into his palm, lifting a hand to cover the back of his. She remains like this for a moment, leaning into him, before letting her fingers slide to his wrist, halfway down his forearm, gripping him gently. He watches her softly as she grows strangely content, at peace, just burying half her face in his hand. He strokes her cheek tenderly with his thumb and she responds by turning her lips inward to kiss the base of his palm.

And there, right then, just for a few moments, that chasm of difference between them seems to close, mended together by that feeling, not crushing this time but light, a warm pulsing glow shared between them, their second heartbeat.

Kylo closes his eyes and becomes lost in it, this oneness that defies all logic, ignores all context, and is completely indifferent to everything that pulls them in opposite directions. Without thinking, he leans in to rest his forehead on hers, his eyes still closed, just concentrating on that warm light, that perfect peace.

His head falls forward a bit when she abruptly disappears, the warmth of her face vanishing in his hand. His eyes fly open, jarred, and he sits up, not quite remembering where he is.

Reality descends swiftly and he can’t help but immediately wish he could go back to that moment, not ten seconds ago, back to that peace, that refuge. He closes his eyes and goes there in his mind, conjuring the feeling as best he can, that oneness of mutual belonging.

He takes a deep inhale, holding it in for several seconds. Then he lets it out, opening his eyes and rising to his feet. He brushes himself off, looking up and around the cave. His gaze passes by where he was just sitting with Rey and slows to linger.

He stares at the spot for a minute, twitching his jaw, deep in thought. Then he abruptly steps forward, beginning to stride down the tunnel, reaching for the navigational device attached to his belt.

He needs to get back to the surface and give the signal to begin extraction. No need to waste any more time here.  

He charges forward purposefully, feeling sharp, focused for the first time in _days_. His concentration, his drive— it’s all returned in a powerful swell like fuel coursing through his veins. He ducks around large crystals jutting out from the walls, from ceiling, barely seeing them, only seeing his destination, what comes next.

He’s got a lot of work to do and he never felt more motivated in his life to do it.

He needs to show her… Rey. He needs to show her what she’ll be a part of when she joins him, what she can accomplish with that kind of power. He needs to show her what the First Order _really_ is, what it is under _his_ leadership.

And what it could be under _their_ leadership.

As he thinks about these things, thinks about how he can show her that they don’t have to be enemies, that their goals can be one and same, that unnamed fear grips him once more, threatening his deepest desire.

But he clenches his fists, banishing it back to his subconscious, back to the secret corners of his mind.

He’s not willing to acknowledge this fear— to name it, examine it, consider what the root of it might be. Like he’s unwilling to do with so many things…

It’s become Kylo’s nature to bury uncomfortable truths, to avoid facing them at all costs.

And so he doesn’t sense it, doesn’t detect it in the slightest. All of those small movements, the changes in him, in how he sees himself, his role as Supreme Leader, his vision of the future. They shift slightly, imperceptibly, like tectonic plates buried deep within the earth, the very foundation changing even as the surface appears untouched, the same as it always has been.


	22. Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey reassesses the purpose of the bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m introducing a OC character in this chapter. I imagine Zazie Beetz playing this character, a.k.a Domino from Deadpool 2. 
> 
>  
> 
>  

“ _Bullshit_!”

Poe jerks a chair out and swiftly takes a seat, leaning over the table with fire in his eyes.

“It’s true.” Finn shrugs his shoulders, sitting back casually, his expression impassive. “Everyone’s been talking about it. How are you just hearing about it now?”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Poe repeats, ignoring Finn’s question.

“Look man, I’m telling you the truth.” Finn sits up a bit, leaning in. “If you don’t believe me, just ask anyone else on this base.” He gestures at the room as though this demonstrates his point, but a second later, he looks around and realizes it’s practically empty, all of the hologame tables and lounge seats completely bare.

Suddenly, a door whirs open and a young woman strides in, heading straight for the kitchen compartments, absently running a hand over her black curls as she goes.

“Daja, you’ve been at the base all day, right?” Poe stands abruptly, pushing out the chair behind him.

“Yeah, where have _you_ been?” Daja snipes back with her signature bite, not even so much as glancing at him.

“ _I’ve been out with Rey trying to fix that damn transmitter!_ ” He practically yells this, hands flying out on either side of him.

Daja doesn’t react, continuing on to open a compartment and begin rifling around.

“So, is it true?” Poe cocks his head, looking over at her.

“Is what true?” Daja’s back is still to him as she searches the compartment.

Poe immediately scoffs. “If it _were_ true, you’d know _exactly_ what I was talking about.” He turns his head sharply to shoot Finn an accusing look. His friend just rolls his eyes in response.

“Oh,” Daja remarks, sounding bored. “You must mean Kylo Ren being awarded the Heart of Delphon.” She pulls a large, silver container out of the compartment and turns to face Poe. “Yeah, that’s true,” she informs him casually. She gives a short nod, then turns to place the container on the counter. “Their Premier announced it this morning. He’s a real humanitarian, that Kylo Ren,” she says dryly, searching through another compartment now.

Poe’s face falls, stricken with disbelief. He drops to the chair again, shell-shocked, eyes blankly staring into nothing. Finn watches him for a few moments, concerned, then leans forward a bit.

“You ok, buddy?” He asks, nodding towards him. Poe shakes his head briskly as if trying to wake up from a dream. Or a nightmare.  

“Has this _entire galaxy_ gone _insane!?_ ” He asks to no one in particular, that fire returning to his eyes. “I mean…” He gapes, completely at a loss. “Is this even the same galaxy? Or did someone just erase the last ten years? Am I the only one who remembers the rise of the First Order— Snoke, the Knights of Ren, death, destruction, _Starkiller_ , _Hosnian!_ ” His voice grows louder with every word he speaks.

“No, you’re not the only one,” Finn says with a sigh. “You’re just…” His voice trails off as he chooses his next words carefully. “One of the few who actually wants to do something about it,” he finishes in a low voice.  

Poe immediately lets out a roar of frustration, beating his fist on the table.

“ _It’s just_ _such bullshit!_ ” He spits out the words in fury. “How can people have such short memories!? How can people ignore everything else they’ve done!? I mean, the First Order does one or two semi-decent things and all off the sudden—” Poe croaks, not sure how to finish the sentence. He sputters for a moment, then covers his eyes with a hand. “It’s _unbelievable_.” He slides his palm down his face, shaking his head. “And now Kylo Ren is being awarded an honor that he didn’t even come _close_ to earning—”

“Actually, he did.” Daja interrupts, pulling out a chair next to Finn and sitting down at the table, shaking a slim, silver cylinder, mixing some sort of drink.

“What?” Poe twitches, irritated by the interruption.

“He _did_ earn the Heart of Delphon,” she says matter-of-factly, still shaking the cylinder.

“ _Why?_ ” Poe challenges, leaning over the table with a fiery glare. “Because he blasted the Black Hole gang into space? _So what?_ ”

“No.” Daja shrugs her shoulders. “Because he blasted the Black Hole gang into space _and_ saved over ten thousand lives in the process.” Poe instantly furrows his eyebrows.

“Wait. What?” He balks at Daja.

“See, Poe, this is your problem.” Daja twists off the top of the cylinder and takes a swig of her drink. “You’re passing judgement on a situation before even bothering to get the details.”

“ _I don’t need any details_.” Poe insists, raising his voice. “A brutal dictator doesn’t deserve a humanitarian award. _Period_.” Daja rolls her eyes as he finishes speaking.

“Do you even know what the Heart of Delphon is?” She sets her drink down. “It’s an honor given to anyone who significantly improves the lives of the planet’s population.” She answers without waiting for a response. “Kylo Ren did that. So, he earned it. Simple.”  

“Listen,” Poe begins in a patronizing tone. “Black Hole was a menace. Everyone knows that. But just because Kylo Ren took five seconds out of his day to give approval for a couple of TIE fighters to blast their bases to smithereens doesn’t mean—”

“That’s not what happened, actually.” This time, Finn is the one who interrupts.

“So, what? What’d he do?” Poe challenges again, clearly exasperated. Finn shares a brief side glance with Daja before sitting up in his chair.

“Well,” Finn starts, crossing his arms. “He didn’t blow up the Black Hole bases. He went in with ground troops this time.”

“Yeah. Ok.” Poe sounds impatient and unimpressed.

“So, Black Hole controlled all the mines on Delphon, right?” Poe nods his head in acknowledgement. “They have over ten thousand slaves working down there, most of them just people they captured in raids.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Poe says dismissively. “Black Hole’s heartless.”

“ _Exactly_.” Finn leans over the table. “They’re heartless. So, when the First Order showed up and surrounded their bases, they emptied out the mines _completely_ , drove all the slaves to the outer edges of the bases to make a human wall.” For the first time, Poe looks genuinely intrigued. He sits back in his chair with a puzzled expression.

“Ok…” He looks off into nothing, trying to work out something in his mind. “So how did the First Order get through without killing all of them?” Finn clicks his tongue and raises his eyebrows.

“As it turns out,” he starts with begrudging admiration. “The troops surrounding the bases were just a decoy to get the gang to empty out the mines. Apparently, the First Order knew a secret way in and their special forces snuck into the bases from underground. So, when the fighting started, the slaves were all outside, away from the battle. Not a single one of them died.”

“Gotta appreciate a clean victory like that.” Daja casually takes another swig of her drink. “Even if it is Kylo Ren.” Finn grunts.

“The bastard’s brilliant sometimes,” he remarks wryly, looking down. 

“ _Oh yeah_ ,” Poe snipes sarcastically. “The bastard’s brilliant, alright.” He leans over the table again. “You know what this is, don’t you? A distraction. It’s all just _one big decoy_.” He articulates the last words with a bite. “Do you think Kylo Ren actually cares about those people’s lives?” Both Daja and Finn immediately shake their heads, the latter mouthing the word “no”.

“Of course not!” Poe slaps a hand on the table. “It’s part of a pattern, you see. Think about it.” He points to Finn. “Remember when he took out the Merdos Syndicate in the Minos Cluster and the whole galaxy _just fawned_ over it?” Finn nods his head wordlessly. “Well, what happened not _two days_ after that?”

“They invaded the Salient system,” Daja answers, beating Finn to the punch.

“Right!” Poe points at Daja now. “And they completely demolished Zidon. _Zidon!?_ ” He gestures wildly with both hands. “They’ve been protecting the people in that system for _years_. If it weren’t for them, half the population would have starved! But did the galaxy kick up a fuss about that?” Both Finn and Daja shake their heads again, almost in exact unison.

“ _Nope._ ” Poe articulates the word. “They were all too busy fawning over the Minos Cluster. Then a couple of weeks later—bam!” He slaps the table again, so loudly that Finn jumps a little. “He does it again. He starts by going after those pirates in Bonaden and while the galaxy is busy cheering him for it, they take out the Brotherhood in Felucia. And thanks to those _stupid holos_ ,” Poe spits out the words in disgust, “most of the galaxy doesn’t know the difference between an organization like the Brotherhood and Black Hole. They’re all just _gangs_.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “How can people be so blind!? _How can they not see what he’s doing!?_ ”

“Ok, that right there,” Daja sits up in her chair. “That’s another one of your problems, Poe.” She points at him.

“ _What!?_ ” Poe immediately protests. “That I give a damn about what’s actually going on? Is that it? It that a problem for you?”

“Listen.” Daja rests her forearms on the table. “You see the big picture, Poe, and that’s _great_. I wish more people were like that. But they’re not. You think big, but most people in the galaxy… they think small.” Daja shrugs their shoulders. “Most of them live and die on the same planet. Do you think they care about what’s going on in a system on the other side of the galaxy?” Poe doesn’t answer, instead dropping his shoulders and sitting back in his chair, looking miserable.

“She’s right,” Finn agrees reluctantly. “I hate to say it, man, but most people are only worried about themselves— saving their own skin and protecting the people they care about. Trust me.” He looks way with a flash of shame. “I understand the impulse.”

“Exactly,” Daja chimes in. “The people on Delphon right now.” She grunts. “They don’t care about what’s going on in Salient or Felucia. All they know is that the Black Hole gang wreaked havoc on their planet for decades, stealing resources, stealing people, capturing their sisters and brothers and moms and dads to force them to work in the mines, and now…?” She tilts her head. “All of those people are going home. Because of Kylo Ren. When you think about it, you understand why they see him as a hero right now.” Poe groans as he leans over, resting one hand on the table and burying his face in the other.

“Hey.” Suddenly, Daja’s voice becomes gentle as she reaches over to put a hand on Poe’s. “I’m not telling you to stop fighting the good fight. You’ll do that no matter what because that’s just who you are. But if you want to win this war…?” She hunches her shoulders a bit, waiting for him to drop his palm from his face. He finally does, rolling his head to the side and looking at her wearily. “You’ve gotta start thinking from the average person’s perspective.” She looks at him with a firm but encouraging gaze. “Because we need them. We need them to fight with us.”

Poe takes in a heavy breath, annoyed but also nodding his head in begrudging agreement. Daja squeezes his hand and gives him a sly smile.

“Don’t worry.” She squints at him knowingly as she withdraws her hand. “The tides will turn soon, especially when me and Rey get this anti-slavery initiative off the ground. Then, we’re gonna give ‘em hell. Isn’t that, right?”

Daja turns and nods over to Rey who’s been sitting silently at the end of the table, a couple of chairs down from the rest of the group. Not only has she not uttered a word this entire time, but she’s barely moved, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in her lap, staring off into nothing.

She jumps, startled when Daja suddenly addresses her. She looks up, her face a bit white, nodding a few times briskly before looking away. The rest of the crew turn towards her in their chairs.

“You know…” Poe starts slowly. “You’ve been awful quiet over there, Rey.”

“Yeah, even more than usual.” Finn leans forward. “What do you think about all this, about Kylo Ren winning the Heart of Delphon?” The three of them look at her expectantly, curious.

Rey takes an uneven breath, straightening in her seat, bringing her shoulders back and down. But she doesn’t look up. She bores holes into the floor, her jaw tightening subtly.

“I think…” She begins. She presses her lips together, appearing deep in thought for several seconds. Suddenly, she sighs. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” She rises abruptly, pushing out her chair. “Good night.” She gives the group a small nod, then turns and heads straight for the exit.

“Night!” She hears both Poe and Daja call after her, the former sounding a little concerned. In the same instant, she hears a chair scrape against the floor, then footsteps approaching swiftly from behind.

“Hey, Rey,” Finn calls. She stops reluctantly, and turns around to face him, making a conscious effort to appear relaxed, chipper even.

“I know, I know.” He closes his eyes briefly and holds out a hand. “I know you’re sick of me asking you this but… are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, _I’m fine_.” Rey tries not to sound exasperated, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m just tired. I’ve been bickering with Poe all day about that transmitter. You know how exhausting he can be…” Finn gives a half laugh.

“Oh, trust me, I know.” He raises his eyebrows, chuckling to himself. “It’s just…” His voice trails off as he searches for the right words. “You really have been extra quiet these past few weeks. Rose has noticed it too.” At this, Rey sighs, unable to conceal a hint of irritation. “We know you, Rey. We know when something’s bothering you.” He leans in a little, eyes full of concern.

Rey looks at her friend, so genuine, so eager to help, and she lets her face fall, dropping her chipper façade. She bows her head, considering how to respond.

“You do know me,” she admits quietly. “It’s just that…” She gulps as her voice trails off. “I’m dealing with something very… tricky right now. And I’m just not ready to talk about it.” She finally looks up, her eyes gentle but decisive. Finn nods a couple times.

“Ok,” he assents, accepting her answer. “But just know that we’re here for you. We’re always here for you.” He lifts a hand and rests it gently on her shoulder. Rey feels the depth of his sincerity, his unwavering loyalty, and she takes a moment in her mind to just admire him, appreciate him.

“I know,” she says softly. “And I’m very lucky for it.” She gives him a small smile and a nod. He squeezes her shoulder once before dropping his hand. “Now go,” she commands in a good-natured tone, gesturing at the table. “Go keep Daja and Poe from annoying one another.” Finn immediately scoffs.

“Yeah, fat chance,” he mutters, turning around. Rey watches him make his way back to the others and take a seat next to Daja who appears to be lecturing Poe, or at least it seems that way given his dramatic eye-rolling. Rey watches them for a few moments, feeling tender, connected to them, but also detached at the same time. Then she turns and walks to the door, pressing a panel to open it.

She strides briskly into the wide halls of the training base, not really noticing her surroundings, just focusing on her destination. She turns a corner and catches sight of Chewie heading in her direction. He baws at her as he nears, asking about the transmitter.

“It’s fixed,” she informs him. “Until the next storm, of course.” The Wookie groans, stopping just in front of her. He baws again, asking where she’s off to.

“I’m going to bed,” she answers with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been out in the heat all day. I’m completely sapped.” He cocks his head and looks down at her, confused. He points behind her, noting that the barracks are in the other direction.

“Oh, I’m going to sleep on the Falcon, tonight,” she tells him. He gives her an amused look but doesn’t say anything, instead shaking his head and stepping around her to continue on his way, wishing her good night as he goes.

“You too!” She calls after him. “See you tomorrow.” She turns and picks up her pace, breaking into a light jog on her way to the hanger. She’d rather not run in to anyone else. Right now, she just needs some time alone…

The door to the hanger whirs open and she steps into the wide, expansive space, making her way around the assorted rows of X-wings, transporters, and speeders to her own ship, docked not far from the entrance. As she nears it, she reaches into her pouch to click a button on the remote. The loading ramp begins to creak open, slowly, unevenly. Rey hops on before it fully touches the ground, running up the steep incline into the ship. She pauses once she reaches the top, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, taking in the smell of the place.

Normally, she tries to make a point to sleep in the barracks, to build a sense of solidarity with the recruits. But on a day like this where she’s tired and worn and feeling stretched thin, she just needs to be home, be in her own little corner of the galaxy.

She opens her eyes and reaches into her pouch to click the remote once more, closing the loading ramp behind her. She turns to the right, walking lazily to the lounge seat. She plops down on the end of it, lifting the strap of her pouch overhead and dropping it to the floor. She begins pulling off her boots, still caked with dry mud, then pulls off her socks, stuffing them inside her shoes and placing them to the side. She scoots towards the center of the seat and curls her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She looks around the ship, taking in the sight of the place, already feeling a little more relaxed, a little more at peace.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

Her mind drifts to where she just was— the training base lounge, Daja and Finn, Poe absolutely _furious_ and, though he would never admit it, discouraged. She sighs and closes her eyes, rolling her head back to rest it on the worn cushion behind her.

 _Yet again_ , she finds herself indirectly responsible for boosting the First Order’s reputation. If Poe only knew… He would be so disappointed in her. He would feel so betrayed. She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back a wave of shame.

But if she had to do it all over again, would she do anything differently?

No. No, she would not.

Because right now there are thousands of families on Delphon welcoming back long-lost spouses, mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. After years of brokenness, wondering and worrying, resigned to the reality that their loved ones would most likely die in darkness, having never seen the light in years... they’re finally coming home. It must feel like a miracle to them.

And he did that. He made that happen. 

Rey opens her eyes softly, gazing up at the dinky tubes and wires running across the ceiling. She blows out a long exhale, her lips puffing out as she does, thinking. She can’t help but hear Poe’s voice echo in her mind.

“ _Do you think Kylo Ren actually cares about those peoples’ lives?_ ”

Does he?

She’s honestly not sure. For all she knows, it was just a strategic decision, another distraction, like Poe said. Then again, he didn’t have to go in with ground forces. He didn’t bother to do that before…

Which makes her think that maybe this is just him trying to get what he wants, trying to convince her to join him, to show her the First Order isn’t what she _knows_ it is.

 _His partner_ , he says. Like she would _ever_ join a regime that builds superweapons and strong arms their way into power.

He is an _idiot_.

Rey lets out a heavy sigh, still looking up at the ceiling. She closes her eyes, shaking her head, her heart sinking in her chest.    

But she loves that idiot.

She’s finally starting to deal with that now, to make sense of it, accept it.

But she had to get through the shock first. Then beating herself up for not recognizing what was happening. Then beating herself up for falling in love with the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Then the pain of realizing they still want opposite things at nearly the same moment they realize they want one another.

Now that she’s had time to process all of this, to give herself room to actually consider the situation, assess it more objectively, she’s starting to wonder…

She’s starting to wonder if maybe Ben was right.

Rey suddenly sits up and loosens her arms around her legs, still tucked into her chest. She rests her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead, intense with thought.

She thinks about the last time she saw him. She thinks about that painful discovery, the harsh reality that they still want different things from the bond, from each other. She thinks about sitting across from him in the kyber cave, the glow of the crystals all around them, challenging him to tell her what’s different, what’s changed since the first time they stood together in the throne room. 

And she thinks about his answer. She remembers the soft touch of his lips on hers, the warmth of his hand cradling her face.

He’s right. That is indeed something different. But is it enough? Is it enough to change the outcome this time?

The more she ponders this question, the more she examines it, stretches it, probes it relentlessly, the more she thinks…

Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the key, what’s been missing.

Maybe this _is_ what the bond is for. Maybe this is what it’s been for this whole time— to take opposing sides, enemies by all logic, and bring them together, allow them to truly see one another, connect with each other, and fall in love.

Maybe this is part of the process, how the bond will accomplish its ultimate goal.

The bond… she thought it was about making her vision from Ahch-To a reality, about turning Ben Solo.

And it is about that. It’s about changing him, about him becoming someone else. But it’s not just for him…

It’s for her too. The bond is just as much about her as it is about him. She understands that now.

There’s something she needs to see, something she needs to become through it. She doesn’t know what it is, but she can _feel_ it. She can feel herself changing.

They’re both becoming something else, something different from what they were, and that’s because of the bond, because of the growing relationship between them.

She can see it happening. She sees it in what he did on Delphon.

Maybe his motivations weren’t pure. Maybe he’s only trying to convince her to join him.

But now he’s done it and he’s experiencing the consequences. The recognition, the praise, the tangible knowledge that he made a difference in so many lives.

For _years_ , he’s been the monster in the mask. That’s how the galaxy saw him. That’s how he saw himself.

Now he’s getting a taste of something else, a different version of himself. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like to be a hero, to be _truly_ admired and looked up to. Like his father.

And would he be experiencing this, would he have done what he did on Delphon without the bond, without her?

No.

It’s their relationship that’s motivating these choices, that’s leading him down this path.

Just like it’s motivating her choices, guiding her down her own path. She thinks about her choices over the past months…

Like the choice to stay in the kyber cave, to return to it, to learn to understand the crystals.

Or the choice she made in the training room, to reach out her hand and heal him. Or the choice she made in Clava’s palace, to jump into the fray and let out a blinding light from within.

Or the choice she made to see the General, to ask for a leadership position.

Would she have made these choices if not for the bond? Would she have made these choices if not for the version of herself she sees in his eyes, someone strong and powerful, a force to be reckoned with?

No. No, she would not.  

When she thinks about these things, when she thinks about her choices and his choices, what’s motivating them, the effect they’re having on one another, on who they’re becoming…

She thinks that maybe he’s right. Maybe she shouldn’t be fighting this. Maybe fighting this is like fighting destiny.  

But just as this thought occurs to her, a sinking fear creeps in from her subconscious, something deep and vulnerable, something she’d rather not face.

But she has to.

Because she has to be honest with herself. She has to be honest about her motivations, about the uncomfortable truth.

That maybe… Maybe she’s only thinking this way because she wants this. _Badly_. More than she ever realized.

He’s given her everything that she’s ever longed for. He makes her feel loved. Cherished. Understood. A perfect sense of belonging.

A part of her _wants_ to give into this, to believe that this is what’s meant to be.

And maybe this yearning, more than anything else, is what’s motivating her to think that Ben is right, that the bond is for them to be together. Maybe she’s just fooling herself, letting her selfish desires overcome her reason, talking herself into something that, by all logic, is _clearly_ a bad idea…

Rey bites her lip, beginning to rub a thumb and index finger together anxiously.

Can she really trust her own judgement here? Can she trust that this is truly what is meant to be and not just something she desperately wants?  

She churns painfully as she considers these questions, churns with the fear that she may never be able to answer them…

Suddenly, her churning subsides a bit, joined abruptly by something else, a feeling she’s come to know quite well.

Rey freezes. Then gulps.

She quickly readjusts on the lounge, dropping her legs to the floor and sitting up. She leans forward resting her forearms on the hologame table and clasping her hands together tightly. She closes her eyes, focusing on the warmth rising within, bringing him closer and closer.

Ok. This was going to happen eventually. She can handle this. She’s ready for this. Ready. _Ready._

Her shoulders drop, and she hangs her head.

No, she’s not.

She fights to regain a semblance of inner calm as she feels him materialize only a few feet ahead of her. She takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, then lets it out in a measured stream. She opens her eyes.

He’s standing in front of the technical station, looking over at her, his dark eyes soft but also uncertain. He’s feeling about like she does right now— warm but also on edge. Guarded.

They stare at one another. Not for long, maybe half a minute, but to Rey, it feels like a lifetime.

“Hey,” she says finally, sitting up a bit.

“Hey,” he responds quietly.

Silence. Again.

He lingers for a moment, then turns, absently pulling off a glove, beginning to look up and around the ship. He reaches out to touch a hook on the side of the technical station, then continues on, examining the piping and circuitry running along the walls and up to the ceiling.

Rey watches him, curious, intrigued the strange rhythm of his emotions as he walks around the lounge. He’s annoyed by this place, twitching inwardly, seeming to fight off unwanted memories. But he also churns with something else, a sad kind of longing, almost as if…

She sits back in her seat, sliding her forearms from the table and resting her hands in her lap. She still watches him closely.

“You have a weird relationship with this place, you know that?” She announces abruptly. He turns towards her, knitting his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she starts, sitting up a little, “that it irritates you but it also feels like…” Her voice trails off, searching for any other way to put this. But there’s only one way. “Your home,” she finishes quietly.

He immediately bristles and turns away from her, pulling his glove back on. She feels him harden and she sighs, shaking her head.

Always so unwilling to face his conflict. Always so eager to bury it instead.

He makes his way back to the technical station, growing more guarded. Rey takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders drawing her legs up into a cross-legged position on the lounge seat. She looks down for a moment.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” She looks back up, trying to sound upbeat.

He immediately stops, then turns his head slowly in her direction.

“The Heart of Delphon.” She nods towards him. “The planet’s highest honor, I believe.” He adjusts his body to face her, dark eyes curious, trying to read her. She feels herself soften, a warm glow welling within. “You brought a lot of families back together. You gave a lot of people a future worth living for.” She gazes at him gently, setting aside her misgivings about his motivations and letting herself swell with deep admiration.

She’s proud of him for what he did. And she wants him to feel that.

At first, he seems surprised, like he wasn’t expecting a genuine compliment. But he soon grows warm, basking under the sincerity of her praise, her respect. He tilts his head, his eyes soft, and steps forward.

She flutters a bit as he takes a seat to her left, sliding in towards her. She resists the urge to gulp, maintaining an even, if slightly nervous, gaze. He’s only a foot away from her now, dark eyes still locked on hers. She feels herself being drawn in, lost in them…

“What happened on Delphon,” he begins in a low voice, leaning in. “That’s the kind of thing you can do with power, Rey.”

And just like that, she snaps out of her trance.

 _Of course_ , he had to go and ruin the moment.

She rolls her eyes and drops her legs to the floor again, twitching a bit in irritation. He starts shaking his head with a patronizing expression.

“What do you think power is?” He shrugs his shoulders as if the answer is self-evident. “It’s the ability to _change things_ , to turn your vision of how things should be into a reality.” Rey sighs and crosses her arms, looking ahead and not at him. “You seem to think the pursuit of power is inherently evil,” he continues. “But power’s just power. Its quality depends on what you do with it.” Her face immediately snaps to his.

“That’s a _very_ good point.” Her tone is less like approval and more like a challenge. “And that quality depends not on handful of actions but on _all_ of one’s actions, what they add up to as a whole.” She catches a subtle flinch of irritation before he looks away.

“Ben.” She turns towards him in her seat, her voice becoming more gentle. He glances down and she catches his gaze with her own. “What you did on Delphon… That the means the universe to the people there. To them, you didn’t just save lives. You mended broken families, restored their communities, gave them hope. That’s an _incomparable_ gift.” She looks up at him with admiration and feels him grow warm once again. She lingers a moment, then sits back in her seat, pressing her lips together.

“But that _does not_ erase what came before.” She shakes her head solemnly. “It doesn’t change what the First Order is— what you’ve done and what you’re doing now.”

“What do you mean what we’re doing _now_?” He demands. She straightens in her seat, crossing her arms.

“Who’s next?” She asks expectantly, cocking her head. He narrows his eyes. They glare at one another for a few seconds. “If your pattern follows suit, you’ll be invading another system within the next few days. So, who’s next?” She raises an eyebrow. He still doesn’t answer, his expression hardening. “Will you be going after an organization like Black Hole— slavers, pirates, a violent gang?” She leans towards him a bit, her eyes piercing. “Or will you be going after an organization like _Zidon_?” She spits out the question accusingly.

“ _Zidon_ ,” He suddenly whips towards her in his seat, pointing an index finger at her face, “ran an illegal Varium market for a decade, keeping Salient’s _official_ government away from its _own damn resource_ —”

“That’s because Salient’s government was hoarding all of the mining profits while half the population was starving!?” Rey protests, swatting his finger away from her. “Zidon only captured the mines so they could have the means to _feed people_.”

“So, you support stealing resources and assassinating government officials, do you?” He challenges, leaning forward with fire in his eyes.

“ _Of course not_.” She glares back at him, his face only a few inches from hers. “I’m not saying Zidon is blameless. I’m saying they weren’t the same as a gang like Black Hole and should’ve been treated _differently_.”  

“ _How?_ ” He challenges again snidely. “How would you have treated them differently?” Rey immediately rolls her eyes.

“Haven’t you ever heard of negotiation?” She snaps with a bite. “You do realize then when you encounter an organization you disagree with, you have options other than blowing them up, don’t you?” He groans, bristling a bit as he sits back against the lounge seat.

“Negotiations like those take forever,” he grouses. “It could be a year before an agreement is reached. And even then, it could all fall apart within a month.” He twitches his jaw, irritated.

“Oh.” Rey sits up, feigning ingenuousness. “It would take a long time?” She asks with a mocking undertone. “Well, I didn’t realize that. If that’s the case, then by all means, just kill them all.” She waves her hand dismissively, then shoots him a cutting glare. He glares back at her for a few seconds, then looks away, _boiling_ with frustration. She looks away as well, tightening her jaw. They sit in silence for a minute, their backs turned to one another.  

As they both lose themselves in thought, she feels his irritation gradually die down, becoming something more like weariness, a mental exhaustion. He sighs heavily.

“There’s no one in the First Order fit to oversee that kind of negotiation.” He finally breaks the silence. Rey turns towards him in her seat, eyeing him curiously.

“What do you mean?” She asks, knitting her eyebrows.

“I mean,” he begins, turning to face her, “that we have plenty fit to negotiate with government officials. But with leaders of a rebel group like Zidon?” He shakes his head. “No one in the upper ranks is qualified to deal with _those_ kinds of people.” Rey scoffs softly.

“What a shock,” she deadpans. Rather than roll his eyes or glare at her like she might expect, he instead purses his lips, a sly expression creeping across his face.

“Of course, things might be different if…” He nods at her knowingly as his voice trails off. She sits up, eyes wide with disbelief once she catches him meaning.

“ _You’re an_ _idiot_ ,” she spits at him.

“Why?” He scoots a little closer to her, dark eyes bright with possibility. “Because I think you’d be _excellent_ at negotiation?” She turns away from him again, re-crossing her arms and shaking her head. “Think about it, Rey,” he goads her. “You’re Force-sensitive, so you could _feel_ how someone responds to the terms. You’re patient, even-tempered, a good listener. You can be confident and firm when you need to be, but you’re also accessible, not intimidating.” She continues shaking her head, more and more emphatically as he speaks.

“Ben, _no_ ,” she says decisively, snapping her face towards his. “I told you. I am _not_ your partner. I’m not helping you gain access to resources so you can build your superweapons. You can figure that out by yourself.” She turns away from him again, jaw hardened, pushing out a fuming exhale. She hears him sigh and sit back in his seat. A heavy silence descends once more.

Rey tightens her arms around her body, trying to regain a sense of calm, but she can’t seem to quiet her inward fury.

Why does he have to be such a stubborn _fool_? He _knows_ her. And he knows what the First Order is. Why can’t he see how absurd it is to even entertain this fantasy, this vision of them leading the galaxy together? That’s not who she is. She _will never_ be that. Surely, somewhere deep inside, he must know this…

Her shoulders droop as her fury subsides into something between discouragement and hopelessness. She closes her eyes and hangs her head, feeling crushed by the situation, the pain of loving him, of wanting to be with him, yet finding his idea of how they should be together _utterly unacceptable_. She gulps, fighting a tightness in her throat.

“Rey.” She hears him intone softly behind her. He scoots across the lounge seat until she can feel his body heat at her back.

“Rey,” he says again, this time his lips just next to her ear, his warm breath tickling strands of hair against her skin. “Please don’t feel like this. _Please_. This situation, us… it’s not hopeless.” She squeezes her eyes shut, desperately holding back tears. Suddenly, she feels his large arms wrap around her from behind, encasing her in warmth. His lips press softly against her skin, kissing the back of her neck. “Please.” His voice is at a low whisper now. “ _Please_.”

She should push him away. She should jerk out of his arms, stand up, whip around, and tell him the situation _is hopeless_ as long as he expects her to join him.

But she doesn’t.

Because she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is just melt into him, forget about all this, everything that makes the idea of their being together impossible, and for just a few precious moments, surrender to his embrace, to the way he makes her feel— so safe, so loved, so perfectly at peace.

So that’s exactly what she does. She takes a deep, nourishing breath, then lets is out slowly, relaxing into him. He tightens his arms around her, his lips still at her neck, nuzzling her, covering her with soft kisses. She keeps her eyes closed, no longer fighting back tears. All of the frustration and anger and desperation she was feeling is gone without a trace, like it was never there. She only feels him, the weight of him, his body and emotions encircling her in a calm, comforting warmth. She feels it again… that pulsing glow inside her, the one they share, the steady rhythm of their love, filling her with a sense of belonging.

If only they could stay like this forever, right here. If only time would just stop and let them stay here, let them escape everything tearing them apart and give them this refuge, a place where they can focus only on how much they want each other and nothing else.

Rey wishes for this. She wishes for it with every fiber of her being until an unwelcome coldness seeps in from the back of her mind, reality, the unavoidable fact that there is no refuge from what divides them. Not a permanent one, at least.

She feels herself sink internally. Ben feels it too. He stops kissing her neck and pulls away, loosening his arms around her. She lets out a heavy sigh, then begins to shift, trying to scoot forward in her seat, moving away from him. He lets her go slowly, _very_ reluctantly, his arms sliding open inch by inch. She’s finally able to scoot forward and stand, walking a few steps away, her arms still wrapped around her body. She feels him watching her, churning with both yearning and frustration.

They both want this so badly. But as long as their vision of the future clashes, as long as he expects her to join the First Order and she expects him to abandon it…

Surely this can’t be destiny. Not like this. Surely, they can’t be meant to throw out all reason, ignore their opposing expectations and just give in to their desires as though somehow that will magically erase all the conflict between them. Surely not…

Rey forces herself to review this conflict in her mind, to think about him mining kyber to build another Starkiller, manically consuming the galaxy’s natural resources for his war machine, indiscriminately destroying any organization that gets in his way, _refusing_ to negotiate with those who only seek to protect the local population, expecting _her_ to come in and make up for the First Order’s diplomatic weaknesses—

Suddenly, Rey’s thoughts grind to a halt, an idea randomly springing to mind. She immediately shakes her head briskly, banishing it away.

 _No_. She’s not falling into that trap again. She _will not_ continue give the First Order a stronger foothold in this galaxy.

“What?” She hears Ben ask behind her.

Damn it.

 _Of course_ , he felt the change in her, the abruptness of the thought popping in her head and the ensuing war against it. She stiffens, keeping her back to him.

“ _Rey_ …” He draws out her name expectantly. “What is it?”

No. No. _No_.

Think about Poe. Think about the Resistance. Think about the General. Think about Finn, Rose, Daja…

Suddenly, her shoulders drop, the weight of the realization descending, what’s really at stake here. She lets out a long, heavy sigh. Then she turns around to face him.

He’s looking up at her with knitted eyebrows, curious and confused, no doubt baffled by the wildly dissonant emotions cycling through her. She drops her arms, putting a hand on her hip. She looks down at the floor, shaking her head, mostly to herself. She can’t believe she’s about to do this…

She takes in a deep inhale.

“You said…” She begins hesitantly. “That no one in the upper ranks of the First Order is qualified to negotiate with groups like Zidon.” She feels Ben hit by a wave of surprise, like that’s the last thing he expected her to say. “Well,” she continues, looking up, “You shouldn’t be using anyone in the upper ranks for that kind of negotiation.” He grunts in response to this, both amused and intrigued.

“Why not?” He asks, his tone condescending.  

“ _Because they’re probably all elitist prigs who don’t know the first thing about living on an Outer Rim planet_ ,” she snaps at him, irritated. He raises his eyebrows. She takes another breath, regaining calm.

“Do you remember,” she starts again, stepping towards him “when we played that game, watching all of those people working in the port?” He nods slightly. “Find someone like that,” she advises. “Someone loyal, too smart for their position, ambitious, maybe, but not from a notable family. A nobody.” She juts her chin up. “Preferably from the Outer Rim, a place you’d think of as a shithole planet.” She narrows her eyes at him. He tilts his head, no longer looking patronizing but thoughtful. She watches him mull over her suggestion, consider its feasibility.

“Ben, it’s worth _trying_ ,” she urges, stepping forward again. He glances up, dark eyes still uncertain. She crosses her arms, her jaw hardening. “I know it may be easier to confuse the galaxy with holos so you can just blow up all of these Outer Rim groups indiscriminately to get access to your _precious_ _resources_.” She enunciates the last words caustically. “But it’s not what’s best. For these systems or you. Surely you know that.” She takes another step towards him, gaze fixed firmly on his. “You may be able to fool the galaxy but you can’t fool the people living in these systems. And you _better believe_ the Resistance is going to take advantage of that.” At this, he sucks in a breath, a pang of alarm seizing his chest. He sits back in his seat, arms still crossed, looking down, furious with thought.

Rey sighs, turning to look up and around the Falcon as he processes, already feeling a twinge of regret. And guilt. She waits several seconds until she feels his eyes on her, then she turns to face him.

His expression isn’t what she expected. He looks almost smug, staring at her with a knowing glimmer.

“You really would make a good leader.” He nods towards her with a sly smile.

“Ben, _no_.” She immediately uncrosses her arms and gestures emphatically with her right hand, index finger pointed. She charges swiftly to take a seat on the end of the lounge right next to him, never breaking her gaze. She leans forward a little, eyes fixed on his.

“I’m not telling you this because I want to be your partner. I’m telling you this because it could _save lives_ ,” she enunciates forcefully. “ _That’s_ what matters, Ben. More than any agenda, more than any power play, more than any war.” Her voice grows more impassioned as she speaks, her eyes entreating. He looks down at her softly, churning inwardly with something that feels almost like admiration but also fear. She’s suddenly seized by an urgent impulse, gripping her deep from within, from the very root of her most fervent desires. She leans forward even more, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “ _Right?_ ” She pleads barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t respond. He only stares down wordlessly, his expression neutral except for his black eyes, a storm of emotion. She looks into them, trying to read him, trying to make sense of the tumultuous feelings raging inside him.

But she doesn’t get much of a chance.

Because he soon disappears before her eyes, so abruptly she jerks back, jarred. She pushes out the air in her lungs, just realizing she’d been holding her breath. She looks at the empty space where he used to be for a moment, almost like she expects him to return. Then she shifts her body slowly so it faces the opposite direction. She perches on the edge of the lounge seat for a few seconds, then leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together. She stares intently down at the floor for a minute, churning but soon resolved. She begins shaking her head.

No.

No.

No.

Maybe it is destiny for her to be with Ben.

But she can’t give in to that right now. Not when she’s so uncertain of him. And not when she’s so uncertain of herself, her motivations.  No, she needs restrain herself, restrain him, keep him at bay until she understands more, until she sees…

 _Some_ kind of change. _Some_ hope that this won’t end in what seems like its inevitable outcome.

Heartbreak.

Her shoulders droop, weighed down by the painful knowledge that there may be no way to avoid this, that no matter what she does, she’ll still end up there— heartbroken. She tightens her jaw, fighting the uneasy dread pooling in her gut, beginning to gnaw at her.

She abruptly shoots up from her seat, taking in a sharp breath. She covers her eyes with a palm, then runs it over face, like she’s trying to reset herself. She turns and begins to head briskly towards the bunks.

She needs to sleep. She just needs to change clothes, crawl into bed, and exhaustion will overtake her body, her mind, to give her some much needed rest, a sweet escape. Yes, she just needs to slip into a long, dreamless slumber… That’s the kind of refuge she needs right now.

She begins to picture it in her mind, visualize tucking herself in, pulling the sheets close to her chin, resting her head back on a soft pillow, then drifting, drifting, drifting... The image gives her peace, hope that when it becomes a reality, she really will just slip away into nothing.

But then there’s the other part of her, the part that knows she won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

The part that’s already missing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I almost certainly won't be able to update next weekend unless a miracle happens and writing just flows out of me. I have a very busy week but I should be back to updating the week after (9/8). Sorry guys!


	23. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey struggles to control her Force abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A miracle happened! 
> 
> Unfortunately, next week I will most definitely not be able to update, but I'll be back on the 15th. As always, thank you for reading! And thanks to you guys leaving encouraging feedback. That played a major role in being able to finish this chapter in time for a weekend update!

Rose rushes into the cockpit of the transport, wide-eyed and breathless.

“How far out are we?”

“Three minutes,” Daja answers hurriedly, struggling maneuver the ship just above the tall, jagged trees of the forest stretching out in all directions. “Assuming this transport doesn’t fall apart before then.” The ship abruptly dips down, lobbing off the top of a tree.

“ _Damn it!_ ” Daja curses. “Rey, can I not fly this thing any higher?”

“ _No!_ ” Rey answers forcefully. “You need to fly low or we’ll get picked up by the slavers’ radar.” Daja groans as she continues to fight the transport’s jerky movements. Rey looks back at Rose from the co-pilot’s chair, immediately noticing the large blood stain at the bottom of her jacket.

“How’s the girl?” Rey asks, already bracing for bad news. Rose looks down and shakes her head.

“She’s stable, but she _has got_ to get real medical attention soon. Within the hour.” Rose and Rey share a foreboding look.

“And we still don’t have a clue where this lady is taking all the freed slaves, do we?” Daja asks with a scoff.

“No.” Rey sighs. “She could be taking them to another planet for all we know.” A nervous dread begins to well in the pit of her stomach.

“Rey.” Rose approaches swiftly and kneels down beside her, eyes intense with determination. “You’ve got to convince her to let me come this time. If I can stay with the girl, I can keep her stable for more than an hour. I _know_ I can,” she stresses with fierce resolve. Rey nods firmly but that dread in her gut deepens.

“I don’t know why this woman is so skittish about— Gah!” Daja cries out as the ship dips unexpectedly again. “What is this?” She asks as she struggles with the transport. “Our third slave rescue? We’ve helped free nearly a hundred slaves within a week. Surely, that’s gotta count for something.”

“It _does_ ,” Rey insists. “We’re building trust. But it’s a process. This woman’s been sold out to the slavers before, remember? She has to be careful. And we need to respect that.”

“I understand,” Rose begins urgently, “that we’re trying to build trust here, I really do. But this girl…” She gulps as her voice trails off. “Her life is on the line,” she finishes at a whisper.

“We’re here,” Daja announces before Rey can respond. The ship begins to descend into a small clearing with abrupt, jerky movements. There’s another, larger transport stationed to the side with three figures cloaked in billowing, black robes standing next to it. Rey turns to the control panel, quickly running through a series of pre-landing procedures.

The ship touches the ground unevenly, the right side settling gently on the surface, the left side crashing down with a thud. Daja pushes out an exhale.

“This ship’s killing me,” she mutters to herself. Rey instantly shoots up from the co-pilot’s chair and walks swiftly to exit with Rose.

“You’ve got post-landing?” she calls back to Daja.

“I’m on it.” She barely hears Daja’s reply, already well on her way to the main hull. The door whirs open and they enter a large, rectangular room with seats lined along the sides and down the center. About forty tired, adrenaline-charged people in tattered clothes are scattered across the hull, looking scared and dazed, many staring wide-eyed into nothing as though they aren’t quite convinced this is reality and not a dream.

Rose immediately turns to the right, heading towards a young girl who can’t be much older than ten laying across four chairs, breathing weakly. Rey charges to the back of the ship, pressing a panel and waiting impatiently as she watches the loading ramp descend.

The moment it touches the ground, a black-cloaked figure charges up the ramp, brushing past Rey without so much as a nod of acknowledgment. She immediately begins speaking to the slaves, former slaves now, in the local language. They all stand and begin shuffling towards the woman who touches each person lightly on the shoulder, counting, as she directs them down the ramp to another cloaked figure below. The second figure points them to the larger transport, where the third figure waits by the loading ramp.

Daja enters the hull just as the last rescue exits the ship. Rey catches her eye and nods emphatically towards Rose kneeling next to the injured girl. Daja immediately turns and crouches down beside her.

“Is that it?”

Rey turns towards the voice and is met by owl eyes peering out of a black hood. She can barely make out the contours of the woman’s face, all sallow and wrinkled.

The woman looks much older than she is. Then again, she’s devoted more than half her life to freeing slaves in one of the most dangerous systems in the Outer Rim. Fighting the good fight in a place like this has a way of aging a person.

“No.” Rey shakes her head, gesturing to Rose and Daja at the other end of the hull. The woman turns without a word, quickly making her way over to the injured girl, Rey following close behind.

“Do you have a bacta tank at the sanctuary?” Rose asks the cloaked woman as she kneels next to her.

“Yes,” she answers evenly, reaching over to lift the blanket and inspect the wound at the girl’s stomach. The moment she sees the injury, Rey feels a cold pang seize the woman’s gut.

“She’s probably got less than an hour,” Rose says at a whisper. “But if you let me go with you, I can keep her stable for longer.” The woman sighs and hangs her head. Rose looks up to Rey with pleading eyes.

Rey takes a deep breath and slowly descends to her knees, lifting hand to rest gently on the woman’s shoulder. She twitches slightly at the touch.

“I respect your need for secrecy, I really do, but…” She shakes her head as her voice trails off. “This girl… she deserves a chance to live.” The woman’s face instantly snaps up to Rey’s.

“And if I take you there, if I take you to the sanctuary and you utter a word to a _single soul_ of its location,” she points in index finger at Rey, “this girl and hundreds of others will _die_. I can’t risk many lives for the sake of one.” She juts her chin up decisively. Rey begins nodding her head slowly.

“I understand,” she starts in a measured tone, “that you have to act on behalf of the group and not the individual.” She pauses, glancing up, searching for the right words. “ _But_ ,” Rey enunciates carefully. She looks back at the woman with earnest eyes.

“Weren’t you the one who told me you’ve gotten more done in the past week than you have in the past five years?” The cloaked woman doesn’t respond, her face like stone, but Rey can feel her softening inwardly. “And that’s because you decided to trust someone. You decided to trust us. So maybe trusting us _is_ in the best interest of the group. Maybe it’s time for you to stop carrying this burden by yourself and let other people _help_ you.” She leans in, her voice both impassioned and pleading.

The woman stares at her coldly for a few seconds, her yellow eyes piercing. Then she shoots abruptly to her feet.

“I will consult with the others,” she announces tersely before charging to end of the ship and disappearing quickly down the loading ramp. Rey sighs, her shoulders drooping, twisting to face Rose still crouched beside her. They share a nervous look before turning their attention back to the injured girl. She breathes weakly, wheezing on the inhales, her eyes closed, barely conscious.

Rey stares at her intently, feeling helpless. She presses her lips together, seized by a powerful impulse. She lifts a hand and begins to extend it towards the girl but stops halfway, withdrawing it swiftly. Rose catches the movement and casts a glance in her direction.

“Do you want to try it again?” Rose asks quietly.

“No.” Rey answers in a whisper. Daja looks up at Rey, knitting her eyebrows.

“Try what?”

“Healing,” Rose answers, her attention still fixed on the girl. For a moment, Daja’s eyebrows furrow even more, then she suddenly gasps, straightening like an arrow in her crouched position.

“ _You can use the Force to heal!?_ ” She asks Rey in disbelief.

“I can’t,” Rey answers immediately. “But… it’s possible.” She pushes out an exhale, trying to keep her frustration at bay.

“Rey, stop beating yourself up,” Rose admonishes. “You can’t expect to do something that you’ve never done before.” Rey says nothing, hardening her jaw. A minute passes as the women crouch silently by the girl, watching, waiting, worrying…

“So, what’d you do in the forest?” Rey looks up, startled by Daja’s sudden question. “To keep the slavers off our tail?” She tilts her head. “There had to be over fifty of them, _easy_. There’s no way you beat ‘em back with just a quarterstaff. I mean you’re good, but you’re not _that_ good.” She leans in towards Rey, eyes eager with curiosity. “You used the Force, didn’t you?” She goads. “ _What’d you do?_ ”

Rose is still facing the girl, but she twitches, turning slightly towards Rey, intrigued by Daja’s question in spite of herself.

Rey opens her mouth to speak, but says nothing. Daja widens her eyes, beckoning her to go on, but Rey can’t seem to get any words out.

“I- I-” She stutters finally but doesn’t get very far. She looks down at the floor, unsure of how to answer.

Suddenly, she twists to the back of the ship when she hears footsteps ascending the loading ramp. The old woman stops at the top, her black cloak billowing in the wind.

“Two.” She holds up two fingers with a gloved hand. “Two come with us. One stays here to watch the transport. We return in three hours.” The woman doesn’t wait for a response before turning to walk swiftly away. Rose immediately shoots up to her feet and runs after her.

“We’ve got to be careful how we move her!” Rose calls out as she races down the ramp. Daja raises her eyebrows.

“Well, I guess I’ll be spending the next three hours on my favorite transport,” she says with a wry smile.

“No.” Rey shakes her head. “You go,” she commands. Daja jerks back, surprised by this.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you be the one to go?”

“No, because the woman already trusts me. Now, I want her to trust you, too.” She nods towards Daja. “Show her who you are, who _we_ are. Show her she just made the best decision of her life. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even tell you her name.” Daja immediately grunts.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Rey. But keep up the positive thinking.” She points towards her. Both women turn when they hear footsteps coming up the ramp again. Rose emerges at the top, guiding a hover-stretcher behind her. The cloaked woman follows at the other end. Daja and Rey instantly rise, stepping away from the injured girl to give them some space to work.

Rose brings the hover-stretcher down so it’s exactly parallel to the girl, still lying on her back across the seats.

“Ok, we need to slide her over _carefully_ ,” she tells the woman. They slip their hands under the girl then begin to lift her _very_ slowly. Rey subtly extends a hand, steadying the girl’s body as they inch her over to the stretcher, then set her gently down. She moans slightly, wincing in pain. 

Rose immediately raises the stretcher then moves to swiftly to the other side, gesturing for the cloaked woman to switch places with her. They begin gliding the girl towards the back of the ship with Rose in the lead. They continue down the loading ramp without looking back, Daja following close behind. Rey halts at the top of the ramp, crossing her arms and solemnly watching the group make their way to the larger transport.

A cloaked figure waits by the ship, tall and perfectly still except for streams of black fabric blowing in the wind. She observes coldly as the group boards, then turns her head up to Rey who still watches from the other transport. Rey can’t sense the woman’s emotions from this distance, but she can imagine that the woman didn’t expect she would be the one to stay behind.

The cloaked figure stares for a moment, then turns and disappears quickly up the loading ramp. Not a second later, it closes smoothly and the transport begins to lift from the ground, just a few feet at first, bobbing lightly above the earth before rising with a low, rhythmic hum to just above the treetops. It hovers for a few seconds, then glides away over the forest.

Rey stands with her arms crossed, watching, long after the transport disappears from sight. She focuses on the trees, tall and thick with verdure, branches barely visible through the mass of evergreen needles covering each tree from top to bottom. She concentrates on the image, on the beauty of the forest, taking deep inhales and slow exhales, desperately trying to reign in the worry and dread and anger and frustration storming inside her, transforming her insides into a frayed bundle of nerves. 

But it’s no use. Instead of feeling better, she only feels worse.

She grips her arms tightly around her body, hardening her jaw and stiffening her muscles. She turns slowly away from the scene and begins to walk through the hull with slow, measured steps. She stops halfway between the rows of seats, staring downward. She stands, tensed, boring holes into the grungy, scraped-up floor.

Suddenly, she whips around and kicks a small, metal crate clear across the transport, watching it fly out of the ship and hearing it land with a clatter somewhere outside. She lets out a loud, frustrated roar, dropping to her knees, her voice reverberating throughout the hull.

She sits back on her calves and folds her body over her thighs, her arms still crossed tightly across her chest. She rests her forehead on the cold floor, pushing out a fuming exhale.

That little girl… she still might not make it.

And it doesn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way _at all_.

 _If she could just do it again_.

If she could just reach inside herself and find whatever it is that allowed her to heal Ben that day and _do it again_.

She’s tried. She’s tried and she’s tried and she’s tried.

She’s tried on herself, with small injuries, cuts and bruises. She tried on Finn when he fractured his arm in the training room. She tried on Rose when she got bitten by a nightshrike.

And she tried today. She knelt next to that girl for… who knows how long? She lost track of time she was concentrating _so intently_.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she just couldn’t let herself go, surrender to the Force flowing through her. Or maybe it was the environment, the jerky transport, the hull full of scared, desperate people watching her.

Or maybe it’s just her. Maybe she’s too weak, too ignorant, too blind in the ways of the Force.

Rey groans, beating her forehead on the floor.

She thought _for sure_ that if she got into a situation like today, where it was life or death, she would give herself over to the adrenaline, the urgency and _just do it_ , just like Ben told her in Clava’s palace— Focus on the energy of the moment. Let _that_ be her teacher. 

But then the moment came, and she couldn’t do it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find whatever it is inside of her that’s capable of healing.

What is _the point_ of being able to do something so incredible, so important, so life-changing if she can’t control it, if she can’t do it at will?

It’s _infuriating_.  

No, it’s more than that. It’s a tragedy. It’s the difference between a little girl living or dying. If that girl doesn’t make it…

Rey squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back tears. She pushes out an exhale through gritted teeth.

It just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

She heals once and can’t do it again. She picks a lock through the Force and does it again not ten minutes later. She Force blinds, then tries it again and…

Rey grunts in disbelief, shaking her head, forehead still to the floor. She can’t get the scene out of her mind— today in the forest, what was _well over_ fifty slavers trailing behind them, telling Rose and Daja to take the rescues on without her, turning to face the men down, racing towards them and leaping into the fray, doing _exactly_ what she did in Clava’s palace, just closing her eyes and landing lightly, her palms extended out on either side of her, and…

Rey goes limp, her shoulders drooping, her muscles hanging loose.

She can’t believe it. She just can’t believe it. Part of her even doubts it really happened.

But it _did_ happen. She was there. She was the one who _made_ it happen. She just doesn’t have the slightest clue how…

Rey sighs heavily, finally peeling her forehead from the metal surface and sitting up to rest on her calves. She drops her head back, turning her face up to the ceiling. She sighs again, arms still crossed. She can’t stop the thought from flashing across her mind.

She wishes he were here.

She just needs someone to talk to about this, someone who actually _knows_ about the Force, about how to train, how to do things with intention. He’s schooled in the light side, he’s schooled in the dark side… She really doesn’t know a living soul better suited to help her gain a _modicum_ of control over her Force abilities.

She bows her head, letting herself imagine the conversation, what she’d tell him, ask him. As she thinks about it, she can almost feel him here with her, feel traces of his presence…

_Wait a second._

Rey perks up, senses heightened. It’s not long before she grows warm with that unmistakable feeling, the tug of the bond bringing them together.

Well, fancy that… There’s a first time for everything. The bond actually happening at _exactly_ the right time. What a welcome deviation from the standard.

Rey uncrosses her arms and begins to rise, expectant yet strangely calm. She brings her shoulders back and down, waiting, her emotions leveling out into a quiet anticipation. She takes a deep breath as she feels him grow nearer and she holds it in until she senses him materialize behind her, the full force of his presence washing over her in a comforting wave.

She immediately turns and charges towards him.

“I need to talk to you,” she announces abruptly, grabbing him by the upper arm and pulling him to the right. He barely has time to react.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” He demands, jarred, as she pushes him onto a seat.

“ _Everything_ ,” she hisses as she sits down next to him. Her mind is going a million miles a minute, itching to dive head first into the conversation, to make the most of their time.

“I’ve been trying to heal again,” she starts without skipping a beat, ignoring the fact that he’s clearly disoriented, struggling to adjust to the situation. “I’ve tried on myself. I’ve tried on friends, I tried today, but I _can’t_ —” She grits her teeth, turning her head sharply. “I just _can’t_ do it. No matter _what_ I do, no matter the situation, no matter the injury— I’ve tried on scrapes. I’ve tried on fractures. I’ve tried on bites. I’ve tried on blaster wounds. I’ve tried and tried and tried and tried but—”

“Rey,” Ben interrupts her, holding up a halting hand, twitching in irritation. “Back up. I need some context here. Where are you? Why is this so important _right now_?” Rey sucks in a breath, stifling the instinct to lash out and reigning in her urgency instead. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. She opens them to find Ben sitting back in his seat, staring at her with knitted eyebrows, confused and concerned.

“I,” she starts again, more calmly this time, “am on an Outer Rim planet helping a local woman rescue people from slavery.” She pauses, taking another breath. “Today, we rescued forty, one of them a little girl, about ten years old.” She pushes out a heavy exhale, hardening her jaw.

“Do you see that blood stain over there?” Rey points to a row of seats just across from them. Ben looks over, then gives a small nod. “That’s from her. She was badly injured while we were trying to escape. She’s on her way to getting real medical attention now but…” Her voice trails off as her gaze drops down. “She could die before she gets there,” she finishes barely above a whisper.

She presses her lips together, fighting a tightness in her throat. She continues to bore holes into the dirty floor, grabbing her elbows and pushing her forearms into her ribs. “And if she does…” She squeezes her eyes shut, holding back hot tears threatening to push their way out. “It’s my fault.” Despite her efforts, she can’t stop them from escaping down her cheeks.  

“ _Rey,_ ” Ben intones gently, bringing a hand to her face, brushing away her tears with a thumb. “That _is not_ your fault,” he assures her, welling with compassion. Rey shakes her head briskly, eyes still squeezed shut.

“But it is,” she whispers. “It is.”

“Why?” He asks, dropping his hand to tilt her chin up with an index finger. She finally opens her eyes and is met with his dark gaze, tender but also aching, seeming to reflect some of the hurt she feels churning inside her.

“Because I’m _capable_ of it,” she insists through a sob, “I’m capable of saving her life. I can heal her. I can do it. You’ve _seen_ me do it.”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly, withdrawing his hand. “Rey, you’re capable of healing a shoulder. But if this girl’s injury was life threatening…?” He clicks his tongue. “You probably couldn’t have done anything about it. Even in the old days, only the most skilled Jedi masters could heal vital organs.” She sits up when she hears this, taking it in, her tears beginning to gradually subside. She looks down, considering his words carefully.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe she isn’t capable of that kind of healing. Just because she can heal a shoulder doesn’t mean she can heal a kidney.

Though she can’t kick the feeling… distant but powerful, an inborn knowledge.

She _is_ capable of that kind of healing. She just doesn’t know how to awaken the ability, to tap into it.

Rey stands abruptly, walking a few steps away, her back to Ben. She brings an index finger to her lip, grazing it lightly as she thinks. A minute passes as she ponders, aware of Ben’s eyes on her all the while.  

“Do you remember…” she says slowly, turning around to face him, “when the bond brought us together at that slaver’s palace, when I was in prison?” His eyebrows immediately shoot up.

“Oh, _I remember_.” He enunciates each word, leaning forward with a sly smile. He can’t seem to stop his gaze from drifting downward over her body. She rolls her eyes as her cheeks grow warm.

“Ben,” she says in a tone of admonishment, “I’m talking about picking the lock.” She steps forward to retake a seat next to him, eyes fixed firmly on his. He straightens, his expression falling neutral.

“Do you remember what you told me, about focusing on the energy of the moment?” He nods once. “Well, I did and I figured it out, just like that.” She snaps. “And you know what?” She leans towards him. “I did it again not ten minutes later. _Easily_. Since then, I’ve been practicing on all kinds of things, not just locks. It comes naturally, like I’ve been doing it all my life.”

“That’s not surprising,” he interjects, shrugging his shoulders. “You already have a mechanical mind, a natural facility for understanding how things work. Combine that with your raw power, and it makes sense that you’d develop the skill quickly.” Rey looks down as he speaks, beginning to nod.

“Ah,” she says softly. “I see.” She says this like she understands, but she looks perplexed, working out a problem in her mind. She bites her lip, thinking intensely.

“Rey.” Ben interrupts her thoughts. She looks up to find him staring at her in curiosity. “What’s really bothering you? What do you really want to know?” He leans towards her, dark eyes beckoning her to answer. She sighs and sits up, squaring her shoulders.

“I want to know how to do things _on purpose_ ,” she articulates firmly. “I want to learn how to control what I’ve been able to do in the heat of the moment, to be able to do it again with intention. Things like healing, Force blinding.”

“Ok…” he begins slowly, looking down. “You know I can’t help you with healing.” He glances up briefly. “But Force blinding…” He tilts his head.

“Well.” She scoots towards him a little. “I’m more interested in anything you can tell me about how I can learn to do something I’ve already done.” He lets out an amused grunt, sitting back in his seat.

“You do realize that’s not how that works.” He raises an eyebrow. “Typically, you learn first, then accomplish the task, not the other way around.”

“So, are you telling me you’ve never once done something on instinct, something you weren’t taught to do, something you couldn’t explain?” She challenges him. He purses his lips.

“No, but—”

“Alright, so how did you learn to do it again?” She cuts him off before he can continue. “How did you learn to control it?” He folds his arms, looking up to the ceiling, considering this for a moment.

“Usually, I’d do it on instinct more than once,” he says finally. “And I’d start notice a pattern, each time getting a better understanding of what I was doing, where it was coming from. That and I had teachers.” He gives her a knowing nod.  

“Fine.” She blinks impassively. “What can you tell me about Force blinding?” He sits up a little, looking pleased, smug even.

“Have you tried to do it again?” He asks in an authoritative tone.

“Yes,” she answers quietly, clasping her hands in her lap. “I tried it again today.”

“And?” He raises an expectant eyebrow. She looks down, tightening her jaw.

“I couldn’t do it.” She shakes her head, boring holes into the floor. She senses Ben’s interest pique. He knows she’s holding something back…

“What happened?” He probes.

“I-” She starts and immediately stops, tensing her shoulders. “I did something else instead,” she finishes at a near whisper. Now Ben’s _very_ intrigued. She hears him shift towards her in his seat.

“What?” He urges in a low voice. She doesn’t move, doesn’t react, eyes still cast intently downward. She takes a few seconds to think, to consider whether or not to continue. “ _Rey_ …” he draws out her name. She shakes her head in response.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” She glances up at him.

“Try me.” He challenges. She sucks in a breath, still shaking her head, deeply reluctant.

“You’ll think I’m mad.” She widens her eyes, the image of the slavers in the forest burned in her memory.

“ _Try me_.” He repeats insistently. She lets out a heavy sigh, dropping her shoulders. She continues staring down for a moment before looking up, guarded. She feels Ben grow impatient.

“I,” she starts confidently but doesn’t get any farther. She blows out an exhale, her lips puffing out as she does.

“I,” she begins again, sounding more determined, but soon grunts, already hating how ridiculous this sounds, even just in her head. Is there _any_ other way she can put this…?

“I froze time,” she blurts out abruptly. Ben immediately raises his eyebrows in disbelief, and Rey gasps furiously.

“See!” She points at him accusingly. “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She turns away from him, crossing her arms and twitching with regret.

“Hey,” he protests, leaning towards her. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

“You didn’t have to,” she responds matter-of-factly, looking ahead and not at him.

“Come on,” he goads her. “Tell me more. What do you mean you froze time?”

“ _I mean_ ,” she begins emphatically, whipping around in her seat to face him again, “that I was in a situation almost _exactly_ like Clava’s palace, running through the forest, dramatically outnumbered, well over fifty slavers on our tail. I tell the others to go on. I turn around. I jump right into the fray, eyes closed, landing with my palms open, extending out on either side of me. And…” Her voice trails off as she looks off into space, eyes growing distant.

“Silence.” She grunts, incredulous, hardly believing the memory herself. “Deafening silence. Not even the sound of the wind.” She looks back at Ben. “I opened my eyes and everything was frozen. Everything. A flock of birds in the sky. A creature jumping between the limbs of a tree. Slavers mid-air, leaping over logs. I saw…” She points as though she were there in the forest again. “a tiny twinkle of something suspended right next to me. I reached out to touch it.” She drops her hand, gaping. “It was some sort of sap dripping from a tree overhead. Just frozen mid fall.” She widens her eyes, completely at a loss. “It was surreal, like a dream,” she says at a whisper.

Ben regards her silently for a moment. Then his jaw slides to the side. She can feel him struggling internally, struggling to take her at her word.

“That’s it.” She crosses her legs in her seat and turns to face him fully. “Come in and see for yourself.” She gestures to her head. He raises his eyebrows, surprised by the open invitation.

“Come on,” she repeats. “We can’t talk about this if you don’t believe me, so come. Let me show you.” She closes her eyes and straightens her back, already reviewing the memory, impatiently waiting for him to join her.

She soon feels him push into her mind, the eerie sensation of an outside observer creeping in all at once. She continues to review the memory, every detail she can— the sights, the sounds, the sensations. She’s running forward at full speed, she’s leaping into the air, she’s landing smoothly with closed eyes. Then she opens them.

She takes her time here. She lingers on the image of the birds frozen in the sky, the fuzzy, bluish creature diving between trees. She consciously thinks about the sound, or lack thereof, only the crunch of her own boots on the forest floor. She shows him the slavers, bodies once in motion now frozen in place in the strangest positions. She shows him how she touched some of them, put her face right in front of theirs, even pried a few of their weapons from their fingers. And all the while, they remain frozen in place, completely unaware of it all, like statues. Finally, she turns and begins to run swiftly through the forest, leaving it all behind without looking back.

Ben withdraws slowly from her mind.

She opens her eyes to find him leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees, staring intently ahead. He still churns with a kind of disbelief, but it’s of a different nature now, though Rey can’t exactly pinpoint how.

“So…?” She begins expectantly, shrugging her shoulders. “What was that? Why is that I tried to Force blind and did that instead?” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he remains perfectly still, eyes trained forward, completely lost in thought.

“I really did do exactly what I did in Clava’s palace,” she insists. “I just gave myself over to the moment, to the Force. I didn’t think I was doing anything differently.” She tilts her head, waiting for him to respond.

Still nothing.

“Is there some sort of connection between Force blinding and Force…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “ _Freezing?_ ” She offers tentatively. Finally, he moves, sitting up abruptly and shaking his head.

“Rey,” he begins with a light scoff. “There’s no such thing as Force freezing.” She immediately knits her eyebrows, confused.

“Ok…” She says slowly. “So, what’s it called then?”

“No.” He folds his arms across his chest and turns towards her in his seat. “That’s not what I mean.” His black eyes are bright with a strange kind of glimmer. “ _I mean_ ,” he articulates the words, leaning towards her with a piercing gaze, “that what you just showed me doesn’t exist. As far as I know, it’s never been done before.” Rey immediately jerks back, widening her eyes.

“Oh.” She stares at him, gaping, not sure what to make of this. “Are you… sure?” She asks hesitantly.

“Rey.” He raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his seat. “Force-users have been known to stun a single person. Very powerful Force-sensitives can stun a group of people. But freezing an entire environment like you did…?” He looks off distantly, shaking his head. “ _No one_ can do that.”

Rey sits perfectly still, shocked, gaping for a few more seconds. Then she closes her mouth and shifts, uncrossing her legs and bringing them to the floor. She grips the edge of the seat, staring downward, trying to process what Ben just told her. A minute passes as they both sit in silence, thinking.

“So…” Rey starts again quietly. “How can I learn how to control an ability that no one’s ever done before?” He grunts.

“I-” He starts but immediately stops, dropping his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he finishes in a low voice. She feels how much he hates this answer, how much it bothers him to admit it. She sighs heavily and covers her eyes with a palm. This conversation is not going the way she expected _at all_ …

After a moment, she slides a palm down her face. She stares at the dirty transport floor, not really seeing it, lost in her own mind, in the helplessness of the situation. She hangs her head.

“I just wish I could go back there,” she says finally. “Just be in that moment again, try to figure out what I did differently this time, what it felt like to...” She lets her voice trail off, not sure how to continue. She sighs again, crossing her arms and sitting back in her seat, mirroring Ben in the exact same position beside her. They sit in silence together for another minute.

“What if you could?” Rey’s head snaps to Ben, jarred by the sudden question. He’s looking over at her slyly.

“What do you mean?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“I mean…” He sits up and turns towards her in his seat. “What if you could go back there? Experience that moment again and again and again, as many times as you wanted?” She furrows her eyebrows, intrigued but confused.

“Have you ever heard of a memory walk?” He leans towards her. She shakes her head no. “It’s a kind of loop where someone is…” He glances up briefly, like he’s hesitant to continue. “ _Trapped_ ,” he finishes reluctantly, “in a memory on rotation, again and again, like being in a dream you can’t wake up from.” She tilts her head, deeply suspicious of this.

“It’s often called by another name.” He looks away, suppressing a flash of shame. “And this isn’t exactly the context in which it’s normally used—”

“What’s it normally used for?” She probes, trying to quell an unnerving feeling in her gut. He glances over at her, black eyes deadly serious.

“You don’t want to know,” he intones darkly. She feels that disquiet in her gut deepen. She bites her lip, looking away, seriously considering this despite her unease…

“Ok,” she says after minute of thought, nodding her head slowly. “Do it.” She turns to face him with a surge of determination.

“ _Rey_ …” He draws out her name like a warning. “You should know that this won’t be like remembering the incident in your mind. It’ll feel like you’re living it— all of the emotions, the fear, the adrenaline. It will feel real. Most likely, you’ll be aware it’s not because you’re Force-sensitive but…” He clicks his tongue. “There’s no guarantee.”

“I don’t care.” She shakes her head briskly. “It’s worth trying, at least once. And I’m _tired_ ,” she emphasizes the word with a heavy exhale, “of not being able to control what I can do through the Force. I want to _know_ what I’m doing, _how_ I’m doing it.” She looks at him with firm resolve. He stares back evenly for a moment before giving a short nod.

“Lie down,” he commands, rising to stand. She gulps, immediately feeling a bit nervous, but does as he asks, shifting to stretch her legs across the seats and lowering back. She weaves her fingers together, resting them lightly on her stomach. She gazes up at the ceiling, beginning to breathe purposefully, trying to calm her inward squirming, prepare herself.  

“So, how long will this last?” She tries to sound confident as Ben crouches beside her.

“As long as you want it to,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Just let me know when you want it to stop.” She immediately knits her eyebrows.

“What if I don’t know it’s not real?” She asks urgently. “What if I’m not aware enough to tell you to stop?”

“Then I’ll stop it after thirty minutes, regardless if you tell me to or not.” He raises an eyebrow to confirm this is acceptable. She nods her head weakly, the rests it back on the seat again. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, still feeling nervous. She feels his hand stretch towards her, hovering.

“Wait.” Her eyes suddenly fly open, her face snapping to his. “What if the bond takes you away before the thirty minutes are up? Will I be trapped,” she gulps, “indefinitely?” She looks to him for reassurance.

His eyes drift slowly up to the ceiling as though he’s just now considering this.

“Ben?” She starts to grow more nervous, a fluttering feeling in her stomach. He twitches his jaw.

“You should probably tell me where you are,” he says finally.

“ _What!?_ ” She immediately shoots up from her reclined position, eyes wide with fury. “Ben!” She yells his name at a near shriek. “I can’t _believe_ you! You can’t just trap me in a memory loop and leave me here! What if I never get out of it? What if my friends come back and I’m just lying here locked in a never-ending sleep! What are they supposed to—”

She stops abruptly, noticing him fight back a smirk. Her face falls flat. 

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” He winks at her, not bothering to conceal the smirk anymore.

“You’re not funny.” She shakes her head, lying back on the seats again.

“ _I_ control how long it lasts, Rey,” he assures her, a teasing twinkle still in his eyes. “And it’ll wear off if I’m not here to maintain it.”

“After how long?” She shoots him a glare.

“It won’t last more than an hour,” he promises. She sighs and shakes her head, feeling unsettled but ready to get this over with. 

“Alright, alright.” She closes her eyes, bringing her forearms to rest lightly on her stomach. “Just get on with it, ok?”   

“Relax,” he goads softly. “Like you’re about to go to sleep.” She takes a deep breath and tries to do as he says, tries to ignore that uneasy feeling. But it only grows, spreading out from her gut into her chest, her limbs.

She’s not sure why she’s so nervous. Maybe it’s just the fear of the unknown, doing something she’s never done before. Maybe it’s the fact that it will feel real, that she might not be aware it isn’t. Maybe it’s just the idea of being trapped, of being out of control.

“Rey.” Ben’s voice interrupts her thoughts, his lips right next to her ear, a hand lightly resting on the top of her head. “Do you trust me?” He asks barely above a whisper. She nods without thinking, responding instinctively from the heart. “Then relax,” he tells her softly. “You know I’d never hurt you. And I can sense your emotions. If it gets too intense, I’ll take you out of it. _Just relax_.” His voice is deep and soothing. “Trust me and relax,” he repeats, his lips still at her ear.

She soon feels her muscles begin to loosen and her mind grow calm, the nervousness subsiding gradually, withdrawing back into her gut, then disappearing all together. She almost feels like she could fall asleep, just like this, with his hand resting on her head, his thumb stroking her lightly, the comfort of his presence just next to her. She imagines herself drifting, drifting away…

Without consciously realizing it, she slips into the memory, the experience of it. She’s running through the forest, panting, adrenaline-charged, Rose and Daja just ahead, forty tired slaves stumbling forward ahead of them. They’re moving so _slowly_ , like they’re trudging through mud. And the slavers are approaching quickly, the sounds growing closer and closer, a stampede of boots on the forest floor, the occasional burst of blaster fire. They’re not going to make it…

“Take them and go!” She yells out, halting in her tracks. “Even if I’m not there, go! Don’t wait for me.” She turns and runs in the opposite direction, not waiting for a response.

There they are. A veritable army of them. Large men wielding all kinds of weapons, racing forward, yelling to one another, growing more confident, more expectant. They know they’re close. They know they’ll catch up, that there’s no way the slaves can outrun them.

Rey clenches her fists, her arms pumping back and forth at her sides as she sprints. She _must_ disable some of them, most of them, take them out of the fight.

The Force blinding is perfect. They’ll be helpless for ten minutes. She hasn’t done it since Clava’s palace, but she feels like she did then, caught up in the energy of the moment, a frenzy of motion yet calm and ready, attuned to everything around her. There’s a lot more than there was then. How far will the light extend? Will it blind all of them?

There’s only one way to find out.

They shriek and point at her as she approaches and she suddenly finds herself the target of a wall of blaster fire, too much to dodge. She leaps high into the air, caught in that strange sensation of moving like light speed but perceiving everything as though it were slowed. The slavers are under her now, spread out over the span of a quarter mile, less concentrated than she’d like. But she’ll take out a good portion of them, enough to make a difference.

She closes her eyes as she descends, losing that sense of having a body, just melting into the Force around her. She lands, crouching low, then immediately stands, palms extended on either side of her. She feels like water streaming down a hill, adjusting its shape as it trickles between wide and narrow crevices of rock, a predetermined path it adapts itself to by nature.

She opens her eyes.

And there it is. The scene burned into her memory. The utter shock. The quiet. The stillness. The dream like quality of it. The feeling of being out of place, out of time.

It plays in her mind, the images, the emotions. But in an instant, it’s gone and she’s running through the forest again, panting, adrenaline-charged, Rose and Daja just ahead.

That’s when she begins to disassociate, to feel herself split, like having a double consciousness, one that experiences and one that observes. Part of her is caught up in the heat of the moment. Part of her knows the moment is only a shadow. That part watches coolly, waits patiently, waits for that tiny slice of time, the seconds between leaping into the air and standing up with her palms extended.

She experiences it again and again and again. Each time feels like the first time, and yet it grows more familiar, a contradiction the product of her split perception. The more she experiences it, the more she starts notice, notice the change in the air when her feet touch the ground. It’s like sensing the acoustics shift in a room, subtle, barely detectable.

But she can feel it. And she follows it. Not because she knows where it leads.

She doesn’t act with intention. She acts on faith.   

She just melts into the Force, lets herself become its instrument, not the other way around.

That’s what it was. That’s what allowed her to do what she did.

“Stop.”

Rey’s not entirely sure she said the word out loud. Maybe she only said it in her mind…? She feels semi-conscious but also absorbed in the loop, the running, the adrenaline.

“Stop.” She repeats, reaching out for any traces of her physical body, her true body, lying back across rows of seats on the transport. She tries to picture herself there…

“Stop.”

Finally, the loop ends. Not abruptly. It just slowly fades, the trees blending together with the sky then sweeping away, taking the experience of the moment with them, all of the emotions.

Her mind is her own again, no longer trapped in a single corner but loose, free roam as she pleases. She opens her eyes.

The dinged-up metal ceiling of the transport comes into view slowly. She blinks a couple of times to sharpen the image. She turns her head to the right. 

Ben’s exactly where she last saw him, crouched next to her, observing with intense interest. She sits up.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asks. Rey shifts, bringing her legs to the floor and turning forward. She rests her hands lightly in her lap.

“No.” She doesn’t sound disappointed but distant, staring off into nothing, still processing what she saw and felt inside the loop. Silence descends.

Ben rises and takes a seat just next to her. She can feel his eyes on her, feel him burning with curiosity. But he doesn’t say anything. He simply waits, watching. Waits for her to process.

Suddenly, Rey scoots back, bringing one leg into her chest and wrapping her arm around it. She still gazes distantly forward.

“I think…” She begins slowly, “that maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” He asks quietly next her.

“I mean that I’ve been so frustrated.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been so annoyed with doing things without meaning to, so eager to control it, control my power. But maybe….” Her voice trails off for a moment.  “Maybe control shouldn’t be the goal.” She feels a wave of surprise hit him.

“Then… what’s the goal?” He asks this as though he can’t imagine another answer to the question.

Rey takes a deep, measured breath, then lets it out slowly.

“To explore.” She shrugs her shoulders. “To develop. To understand. Control?” She turns her head sharply. “Maybe that comes after.”

She feels how struck he is by this answer. He sits back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Rey glances over at him. He’s pursing his lips and looking down, mulling over her conclusion.

“I’m sure that sounds crazy to you,” she says quietly, dropping her leg back down to the floor. He doesn’t react to this at first, eyebrows furrowed, still staring ahead. Finally, he takes a breath and sits up.

“Maybe not,” he says, looking over at Rey, his black eyes thoughtful. “Have you talked to the kyber crystals about this?” She jerks back slightly, surprised by the question.

“No.” She shakes her head.

“I think you should.” He nods towards her. “Tell them about what’s been happening. Tell them about what happened today.” She knits her eyebrows and tilts her head, intrigued by this suggestion, where it comes from.

“Why?” She probes. “What do you think they’ll say?” 

“I have no idea.” He sits back in his seat, shrugging his shoulders. “But kyber crystals are attuned to the nature of the Force, maybe more so than any living creature, any Force-sensitive. They’re not aligned with the dark side or the light side, they’re just aligned with the Force. In fact…” He grunts, raising his eyebrows. “The dark and the light— these are concepts people came up with. I’d be curious to see if the crystals understand the Force in the same way.”

Now Rey is the one who’s struck, perking up and peering at Ben intently, trying to read him.

“So…” She can’t quite believe what he’s suggesting, that he would even consider this. “Are you saying that maybe there is no dark side or light side?” He immediately sits up, shaking his head briskly.

“No, I’m saying that you’re not a Jedi and you’re not a Sith.” He leans towards her, dark eyes locked on hers, burning with possibility. “So, you shouldn’t be training like one. Maybe you shouldn’t be training at all. Maybe trying to train you would be like putting your power in restraints. Maybe you,” he points at her with a glimmer, “are something different, something new.” She looks at him with wide eyes, entranced, powerfully drawn to this idea, this vision of who she could become.

“What happened today, what you showed me…” He leans even closer now, his face only a few inches from hers. “Maybe that’s only the beginning. _Who knows_ what else you could be capable of.” His conviction surges through her, how much he believes what he’s saying, filling her with a sense of purpose and destiny.

She feels more confident now, more confident in her conclusion after the memory walk. She should be exploring, not trying to control the Force but letting it use her, show her the extent of her abilities, what she’s meant to do with them. And maybe she _should_ try to talk to the crystals, see what they have to say about all this…

She sits back in her seat, bringing an index finger to her lip, staring off into space as she storms with thought, considering all of these things, their implications. Ben sits next to her, similarly lost in his own mind. They sit together quietly for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Rey drops her hand and sighs, suddenly remembering what started this whole conversation, the injured girl, her failure to heal her. Maybe she’s at the sanctuary right now, getting the medical attention she needs. Or maybe… maybe she didn’t make it.

She hangs her head. Then she looks across the transport at the blood-stained seats. She sighs again.

“Exploring’s all well and good…” She breaks the silence abruptly. “But…” She tilts her head. “It would be _very_ nice to know how to heal.” She glances over at Ben.

He’s not looking at her but at the blood stain across the way. His expression is strange, hardened, his jaw clenched like he’s angry. She feels him churn with tumultuous emotions, most of them negative— irritation, resentment, hatred even. But also tenderness, like something’s working to soften these other feelings gnawing at him. She looks at him curiously, perplexed, not understanding the root of this internal war.  

Finally, he sits up, twitching his jaw, dropping his arms at his sides.

“My uncle…” The moment he chokes out the words, his emotions start to make sense. He pushes out an exhale, _deeply_ reluctant to continue. But he forces himself to. “He once told me that learning how to heal was like learning how to love.” He still twitches in irritation. “He said that to truly develop the ability, to master it, one had to develop the ability to love. But not any kind of love. A certain kind.” Rey knits her eyebrows, leaning towards him, utterly fascinated. He finally looks over at her, his dark eyes guarded and strangely sad. She stares back intently, _dying_ for him to continue.  

“Like a…” He glances up to the ceiling, searching his memory for the right word. “A universal love,” he finishes, looking back at her. “A selfless love, extended indiscriminately to all life. Like loving life for its own sake and not because of any need or desire of your own.” He grunts, looking away again. “That’s why he said…” He drops his shoulders, tightening his jaw. He sulks for a moment. “That’s why he said I’d never be able to do it,” he says quietly.

Without thinking, Rey immediately reaches over to take his hand. His face snaps up, surprised.

“I think you could do it,” she declares with absolute confidence. He sits up a little, caught off guard. “I _know_ you could do it.” She maintains a clear, direct gaze and he stares at her, eyes darkened in doubt and something she’s not used to seeing in him _at all_ … insecurity.

She squeezes his hand gently and leans towards him, her expression tender and reassuring. His eyes begin to soften, all the doubt and insecurity sweeping away to be replaced by something else. He grows warm, sitting up and tugging at her hand still clasped in his, pulling her towards him, his gaze fixed on hers. She catches her breath, a nervous flutter in her chest.

He wells with that crushing, all-consuming desire, pouring into her like a flood, awakening the same in her, that magnetism, how much she _craves_ being near him, being close to him, _just_ like this.  

His face descends, slowly, purposefully, and her lips practically burn in anticipation. For a split second, she imagines lunging forward, capturing his soft lips with her own, running her fingers through his hair, feeling his hands slip around her waist, pulling her closer as their mouths open into one another, just giving over to the passion and desire, that powerful, mutual yearning to become one.  

But the fantasy dies as quickly as it springs to mind.

Her other hand whips up just in time, pushing against his chest as her eyes darken with warning.

“Ben, no.” She shakes her head weakly, trying to say this with conviction. But she can’t fool him. He knows her words don’t match her feelings. He ignores her protest, his face only an inch from hers, continuing to close the gap between them.

“ _No_.” She pushes him away more forcefully this time, growing more determined. He pulls back, exasperated.

“Rey, you want this _just_ as much as I do,” he intones firmly, dark eyes churning with frustration and desire. “You _know_ I can feel that. So, why are you doing this? To yourself? _To us_?”

“We have been _over_ this,” she whispers, hardening inwardly with resolve. “You know why. Not like this. Not right now.” She shakes her head decisively.

“When then?” He cocks his head in challenge.

She sits back, straightening and looking down, clasping her hands in her lap. She takes her time to think, to let her irritation subside and consider her answer with care. What _is_ she waiting for…?

Finally, she looks up, her gaze soft, tender, but also firm. 

“I’m not sure,” she answers honestly, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe…” She pauses for a moment. “Maybe when you can heal.” At first his eyes narrow, uncertain, confused what she means by this. But she feels the weight of realization descend swiftly and with it that doubt, that insecurity, returns to his eyes, dark and guarded. A long minute of silence passes as he stares at her and she stares right back, unwavering.

And then he’s gone. Vanished, right before her eyes, the force of his presence disappearing just like that, leaving a gaping void in the room.

She lets out an exhale, dropping her shoulders, feeling heavy with emotion, the loneliness, the desire, the frustration. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, competing thoughts pulling her mind in opposite directions.

Part of her is proud, proud of herself for restraining him, for doing what she knows is right. And part of her wants to go back to that moment, back to his dark eyes burning with passion, his lips descending to hers, and make a different choice.

She hangs her head, struggling against that painful yearning, unsuccessfully.

She wishes he were here again. She wishes the bond wouldn’t take him away so abruptly, would let them stay together for just a while longer.

Her eyes fly open and she snaps her head up, shaking it briskly, trying to shake off this feeling, or at least push it to the side.

She looks up and around the transport, trying to clear her mind, focus on anything else. She catches sight of the blood stain on the seats across from her once more. She walks over to it and crouches down. She stares at the dark red blotch on the grey fabric, her heart twisting with compassion. She extends a hand slowly, resting it gently down on the stain. She gulps, wondering about the girl, where she is, if she has a future ahead of her, a life to live…

Rey closes her eyes and bows her head. She takes a deep breath, picturing the girl in her mind, remembering the feeling of her life force as she knelt down beside her, desperately trying to heal her. She reaches out, searching for traces of her, any sign of hope that the light hasn’t been snuffed out, _not yet_ …

She tilts her head, sensing, something subtle, faint but she feels it nonetheless. A quiet assurance.

A smile tugs at her lips.

Rey stands, opening her eyes and welling with relief. Then she turns and heads towards the cockpit without giving the blood stain a second look.


	24. Just You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren attempts to find a negotiator from the lower ranks of the First Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m introducing another OC character in this chapter. I imagine Dylan O'Brian in this role, a.k.a. Stiles from Teen Wolf.
> 
>  

“S-sir?” The technician stutters, sounding confused.  

Kylo Ren sighs inside his mask. He stands at the end of the meeting room, his back to the man, facing a giant window that overlooks the bustling port below. 

If he has to repeat himself _one more time_ today…

He whips around abruptly, so abruptly that the technician nearly jumps out of his skin. The man is still trembling, every bit as much as when he first entered the room.  

“ _What_ ,” Kylo articulates the word through gritted teeth, “can you tell me about the Lords of Asphodel?”

“Ah.” The technician widens his eyes as if he understands now, but he’s clearly still confused. “The Lords of Asphodel, yes.” He repeats with false confidence. “They are…” His eyes drift to the ceiling as his voice trails off. “A gang? In the Outer Rim?” He supplies tentatively.

Kylo stares down coldly in response, letting the room fill with a crushing silence. 

“Where are you from again?” He sounds irritated, even through the distortion of his mask.

“F-Fornax, sir.” The technician stutters timidly. “I-in the Mid Rim.” 

“Get out.” Kylo commands tersely as he turns back to face the port. A second passes, and he hears nothing.

“ _Now_.” He articulates the word at a low growl. Immediately, the sound of footsteps recedes to the end of the room. A door whirs open, then shuts just as quickly.  

Kylo sighs, more heavily this time. He stands with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, gazing down at the port below, alive with the activity of throngs of black-clad figures— technicians, engineers, supply workers— anonymous faces darting to and fro in a frenzy of motion that looks like chaos but seems organized nonetheless.

He shakes his head.

Over a thousand. _A thousand_.

That’s how many names were submitted when he first put out the call to every officer and manager in the lower ranks of the _entire_ First Order.

The request was simple. Identify at least one person per unit who’s overqualified for their current position— by education, by skill, or by intelligence. Someone who’s a strong communicator, who shows promise in leadership, and _most importantly_ , is familiar with Outer Rim planets and politics.

A thousand names, a thousand possibilities.

A team of officers spent the last week vetting the pool, whittling it down to five hundred, then two hundred, then fifty, and now fifteen.

Fifteen finalists. Supposedly the best in all the lower ranks, precious gems in a sea of insignificant pebbles.

And he just spent the last hour watching twelve of them tremble like children as they stuttered out their histories and gave ignorant answers to his questions.

Kylo tightens his jaw.

 _Idiots_. Small-minded _fools_.

He honestly didn’t expect anything different. This past hour… it’s only been a confirmation of what he already knew.

The lower ranks of the First Order are filled with rubes, people with no concept of the galaxy beyond their own little corner of it, their backwater home planets and their menial roles within this organization. They aren’t fit to represent the First Order and its mission in any capacity, much less to oversee a complex negotiation process with lawless, guerilla groups in the Outer Rim.

No. This was a mistake. A waste of time. He doesn’t need some moron who spends most of his life doing routine maintenance on supply transports.

He needs _Rey_.

Suddenly, his thoughts halt, interrupted by the crackle of his comm. He reaches for the device. 

“The next one has arrived, sir,” a voice announces through the static. “Shall I send him in?”

Kylo pauses, looking down at the comm in his gloved hand.

Then he brings it up to his mask.

“No,” he commands. “Send him away. Send them all away. The interviews are done.” He drops his hand.

“Yes, sir, straight away.”

He hears the response just as he returns the comm to his belt. He clasps his hands behind his back, resuming his cold observance of the port.

He watches the black-clad figures scurry along their paths. Each one is focused intently on his task, on the tiny slice of responsibility allotted to him, oblivious to all else, blind to the bigger picture, how he is part of a much larger whole. 

No.

These people… None of them are the kind of negotiator he needs. They’re no more fit than any of the superior officers.

These Outer Rim groups are a rough lot. Violent, aggressive, _rebellious_ by nature. He needs someone who understands this, who understands how people can become this way. He needs someone who knows what it means to scrape by to survive, someone fearless, someone who could stare down the barrel of a blaster pointed in their face without blinking, someone who won’t be easily intimidated but also someone soft, someone personable, someone who listens.

And as far as he’s concerned, there’s only _one person_ who truly fits this description, who is _exactly_ what he needs.

He sighs as he thinks about her, pictures her in his mind. He sees her on the Falcon, criticizing his indiscriminate destruction of the Outer Rim rabble, challenging his use of holos to cast them all as violent gangs when the truth is much more complex. What was it she’d said to him?

“You may be able to fool the galaxy but you can’t fool the people living in these systems.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

She was right.

It gives him no joy to admit it. But she was right.

They’re already having problems in Salient and Felucia, _especially_ Felucia. The vast majority of population was downright _revolutionary_ after they took out the Brotherhood. They’ve had to flood the system with troops and set up a temporary blockade just to keep the planets from descending into utter chaos.

Salient’s not much better. There haven’t been as many riots, but it seems a Zidon-like network is already forming. Local minors are pilfering a significant portion of the Varium they extract to illegal traders. He just gave the order to discharge all local workers from their mining teams, a _very_ unpopular move with the locals and an inconvenience to the First Order. The mines on Salient are particularly labyrinthine and difficult to navigate. The locals know it by instinct. But outsiders? It could take them years to learn…

Without thinking, Kylo lifts his hands and unclicks his mask, bringing it up and overhead, his skin craving a respite from its suffocating prison. He takes a deep breath as he turns from the window and walks a few paces to the long, rectangular table in the center of the room. He sets the mask carefully on its surface before pulling out a chair and sinking slowly down onto it, covering his eyes with a palm.

He sees it now. He sees his mistake.

He was so eager to consolidate power throughout the galaxy, control all of its resources, that he neglected to think in the long term, to _truly_ consider the consequences of destroying groups worshipped as heroes by the local population.

He slides a gloved palm over his face, stopping at his jaw, gripping it between his thumb and index finger.

He thought it would be more efficient just to destroy them all and manage any large-scale blow back with holos. Now he sees it’s the opposite.

Nothing makes this more obvious than comparing the resource extraction in Delphon verses Felucia.

The government, practically the entire population of Delphon, is bending over backwards to give the First Order _anything_ and _everything_ it needs to mine its ores. A quarter of the former slaves, people who were forced to spend years of their lives in the mines, have _voluntarily_ joined their extraction teams to help them navigate its tunnels.

But Felucia? Despite gaining access to the system’s mines nearly a full month before Delphon, they’ve only _just begun_ the extraction. With all the riots and bombings, they’ve spent half their time just trying to keep the damn mines open and safe to work in.

Yes, he sees it now. He sees that if he wants to establish a strong, lasting hold over these systems, it’s necessary to work _with_ the local populations, not against them.

And to do that, he needs a negotiator. For organizations like Zidon and the Brotherhood… He needs someone who can get him access to a system’s resources without starting a damn rebellion.

But there isn’t a _single individual_ in the whole of the First Order who’s up for the task.  

He drops his hand from his jaw and rests it on the table in front of him, twitching inwardly.

It’s just one more sign, one more indicator of the cold, hard truth.

The First Order isn’t ready. They’re simply not ready for this transition, what they need to become.

For years, from the very beginning, they were only a war machine. Power was the goal, wrenching it from the feeble, incompetent hands of the New Republic to see the vision of the Empire come to fruition, achieving _true_ order throughout the galaxy.

But they were so concerned with getting power, they rarely considered what they’d do when they got it.

Well, now they have it. And _he_ is the one who needs to think about this question, about what to _do_ with the power they worked so hard to achieve. He is the one who needs to transform a primarily martial organization into an effective governing body.

He _must_ bring about a change.

He needs to invest less effort into war and more into diplomacy. He needs to stop making enemies and start making allies. He needs to make decisions not only for the benefit of the First Order but for the benefit of the galaxy because _now_ these two things are aligned.

But this change, the necessity of it…

Sometimes he feels like he’s the only person who recognizes it.

So much of the leadership still sees the First Order as a war machine. They _cannot_ think, _cannot_ reason beyond the martial sphere, beyond the need to build weapons and armies, to squelch rebellions and destroy their opponents.  

They still need to do these things. But this can’t be all they are anymore. Not if they want to actually _keep_ the power they fought so hard to win. 

Kylo sighs heavily, feeling crushed under the weight of this responsibility, under the reality that he must do this alone.

For now.

He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. He gazes across the long, rectangular table for a few moments, then rises, walking to the window overlooking the port. He stares down, drifting deep into thought, so deep he no longer sees the image before him.

He only sees Rey.

He _needs_ her. He just needs her.

It’s not that he can’t manage this transition on his own. He can. But things would go much more smoothly if she were here. He’d get things done right the first time. She would be here to help him see what he can’t, to help him think through all possible scenarios, all possible outcomes, and make the best decisions.

But she’s being so _damn stubborn_.

How can she be so blind?

How can she not see that she’s _meant_ for this, that she is meant to rule beside him, to help him transform the First Order into what it needs to be?    

She’s already doing it. Unofficially. She can’t seem to keep herself from doing it. He _knows_ there’s a part of her that yearns for power, that yearns for ability to reshape the galaxy to be different, to be better. She just refuses to recognize this in herself, to honor what it means.

Does she really think she’s meant to devote her life to serving a lost cause? Or saving an insignificant handful of slaves on Outer Rim planets?

How can she not see that what happened on Delphon is just the smallest taste of what she could accomplish if she joined him? She claims to care so much about life in the galaxy… So why is it that she outright rejects a position that would grant her immeasurable power to serve life on the grandest of scales, to make decisions that would affect _billions_?

He just can’t understand it. He can’t understand her unwillingness to embrace her destiny.

This stubbornness of hers, this dogged blindness…

It is the _only_ thing. The only thing holding her back from giving in to what they both want.

At this, he closes his eyes and bows his head, suddenly overcome by a rush of emotions, that powerful yearning tugging at his heart with the cruelest ache, an all-consuming desire, _maddeningly_ unfulfilled, all the more maddening because he _knows_ how much the feeling is shared, how much she wants the exact same thing. If she would just let herself have it, just open her eyes and see the truth…

It’s driving him insane. This waiting, having to restrain himself.

He just wants to go to her. Just jump on a ship right now and go to her, refuse to leave until she comes back with him.

He is _so sick_ of waiting for the bond to bring them together. He wants her here. _Right now_. Today and every day after it.

He clenches his fists, focusing on this feeling, this desire, as though he could will it into reality through the power of his thought alone. It churns. It aches. It _burns_ in him. It’s so intense that he hardly feels it, almost misses it, when that subtle feeling seeps in at his core, the gentle warmth that starts small then grows little by little, bringing the force of her presence with it.

He immediately drops his arms, his eyes flying open. He can’t stop the thought from flashing across his mind.

Did he just… _trigger the bond?_

No. Surely not.

He turns away from the port, already searching for her, this thought lingering in his mind, how uncanny it is that this is happening _just_ when he was thinking about how much he wants her here.

Maybe it’s a coincidence. He’s thought about it before and nothing happened. But maybe something was different this time? Or maybe something’s changed, or is changing…?

Before he has time to fully consider these questions, he sees her materialize before him, just to the right of the long table in the center of the room.

She’s standing, calm and relaxed, head bowed, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. After a moment, she looks up, straightening a bit, her eyes alert and expectant.

Kylo can’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips.

He senses it.

She’s happy to see him.

“Hey,” she greets casually, folding her arms and stepping forward.

“Hey,” he responds in kind, stepping towards her.

He feels her grow warm as they approach one another. They stop with just a foot between them, eyes locked.

She parts her lips but doesn’t speak, like she suddenly forgot what she meant to say. She has that look again, the one where she seems lost in his eyes.

He thinks about it. Thinks about reaching out with a hand, leaning down, his lips descending to hers…

But if he does that, she’ll snap out of this trance and push him away, just like she did last time.  

So instead he just stares at her, enjoying the moment, enjoying being the object of her infatuation.

It’s better this way, better to just let her experience the feeling, how much she wants to be with him…

“What were you just thinking about?” He suddenly breaks the silence. “Before the bond?”

Rey immediately groans.

“Not that again.” She rolls her eyes, stepping to the side to brush past him. “Hasn’t that question gotten us into enough trouble already?” She calls back as she makes her way over to the window.

“ _Rey…_ ” He draws out her name, turning towards her. 

“Ben, no.” She whips around before he can continue. “This whole sharing what we were thinking about just before the bond…? It was a bad idea. A horrible idea, actually. I’m sorry I ever suggested it.”

“Why?” He twitches, irritated. “What’s so horrible about it?” He narrows his eyes at her. She looks off to the side, furiously searching her mind for a reason. Half a minute passes and she still says nothing, churning with a kind of self-consciousness, like she’s trying to hide something.

That’s what he thought.

She just doesn’t want to admit that she was thinking about him, about wanting to be with him.  

“ _Rey…_ ” He draws out her name again.

“No.” Her head snaps up. “I don’t want to do this.” She shakes her head. “And you’ve used up all your favors.” She points at him before turning to face the window.

He rolls his eyes, moving to stand just beside her.

“ _Rey_.” He sounds irritated now. “We’ll never learn to control the bond if we don’t examine it, especially what triggers it. And the only way—”

“What makes you think we’re meant to control it, huh?” She challenges, twisting to face him. “Have you ever considered that maybe being out of control is part of the point?”

He furrows his eyebrows, instinctively grating against the idea that anything is _meant_ to be beyond his control.

“How?” He probes. “ _How_ is that part of the point? What could we possibly gain from randomly—”

“Ben,” she cuts him off again. “How many times has the bond brought us together at the worst possible moment, when you’re angry, or annoyed, or uncertain?” She raises an eyebrow.

His eyes drift up to the ceiling.

“Most of the time.” He tilts his head begrudgingly.

“ _Yes!_ See,” she responds, barely waiting for an answer. “If we could control the bond, that wouldn’t happen. In fact, if we could control the bond, _nothing_ would happen. Practically everything we’ve experienced together over the past year would never have occurred at all. It’s _because_ we can’t control it that we’ve been forced to engage with one another, forced to interact at times when we would _never_ wish the other was there—”  

“But that’s changing.” Now he’s the one who cuts her off. She twitches, annoyed, then knits her eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” She asks.  

“ _I mean_ ,” he articulates the words, “that lately you’ve been showing up at _exactly_ the right time.” He gives her a knowing nod. Her face appears even, impassive, but he feels her react to this, a pang of realization mixed with a strange kind of fear. She turns away from him, staring out at the port with crossed arms. 

“I’m not alone in that, am I?” He asks quietly.

She doesn’t answer or even move, eyes fixed firmly ahead.

Her lack of response tells him what he wants to know.

“So, explain that,” he continues in a low voice. “What’s changed? Why is the bond evolving this way?”

Rey pushes out an exhale, reluctantly considering the question. He knows there’s only one answer that makes a damn bit of sense…

“Well,” she starts cautiously. “I’m…” her voice trails off for a moment. “I’m not sure I can say it’s a pattern yet. On my end, at least.” She glances up briefly. “But…” She tilts her head to the side. “Maybe…” She presses her lips together. “Maybe…” She says the word again, struggling to articulate the thought.

“Maybe the closer we get to fulfilling the bond’s purpose, the closer we get to controlling it.” He finishes the sentence.

She immediately casts her gaze downward.

She’s unsettled by this. But she’s also struck she by it, by how much it makes sense.

He waits for her to process, come to terms with the reality, with what’s happening. An eternity drags by before she gulps again.

“You might be right,” she says softly.

His lips tease upward.

She still looks down and not at him, arms crossed, making herself small.

“At least, you were right about…” She shifts uncomfortably, churning with an ache that’s so familiar it feels like his own. “You were right when you said the bond’s purpose…” She bows her head. “It’s for us to be together.”

The words are soft, barely audible, but they land like an explosive blast.

His chest swells with satisfaction.

So, she _does_ understand. She knows it, accepts it, the truth of the bond, what it’s meant for.

_Then why the hell does she keep pushing him away?_

He opens his mouth to speak but she senses where he’s going, snapping her head up.

“But that is not it’s _only_ purpose,” she articulates with resolve. “In fact, maybe it’s less of a purpose and more of a means.”

“ _What?_ ” He squints.

Now she’s not making any sense.

“Maybe it’s a means for the bond to accomplish its _true_ purpose.” She steps forward, looking up with conviction. “The point of all this, everything that’s happening between us.”

“And what’s that? What’s the point?” He demands impatiently.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze locked on his, her eyes softening.

“The point is to change,” she says gently.

He immediately stiffens, hardening his jaw.

 _Of course_ she thinks the point is for him to change…   

“For _both_ of us to change,” she adds hastily.

At this, he knits his eyebrows, not quite understanding her.

“Both of us?” He repeats, intrigued.

“Yes.” She nods. “Both of us are changing because of the bond, changing to become…” She looks away as her voice trails off. “Something else.” Her voice is distant.

He purses his lips, crossing his arms as he mulls over this idea.

“Become what?”

She shakes her head slowly, looking down.

“I’m not sure.” She brings an index finger to her lip. “But I know that we’re changing because of the bond. I know I’m changing.” She has that faraway look, lost inside her own mind.

He tilts his head, curious.

“How?” He asks quietly. “How are you changing?”

At first, she doesn’t answer, continuing to stare down, her finger at her lip. Then she drops her hand and crosses her arms, turning away from the port and walking a few steps towards the table.

He turns but doesn’t follow, instead watching, waiting.

She pauses a few feet away, her back to him. Then finally, she turns to face him.

“The last time you saw me,” she begins slowly. “I’d just done something I’d never done before, something unbelievable. When you told me that _no one_ had ever done it before...” She widens her eyes. “I should have been terrified, scared out of my mind. And I was. I was scared. But…” Her gaze drifts down, growing distant. She pauses for a few moments as she considers her next words. “I was also… excited,” she finishes finally. “Excited about what it could mean, what else I might be capable of.” She looks up again, eyes bright with possibility.

“Good.” He nods a couple of times. “That’s good. But what does that have to do with the bond?”

“ _Ben_ ,” she intones, stepping towards him. “You have _no idea_. This is a huge change for me. When I first felt the Force awaken inside of me…?” She scoffs softly, shaking her head. “I was so scared. Scared of what it meant, of what I was able to do through it, things I had no hope of understanding. It just felt so wild and out of my control. It still feels that way, honestly. _But_ ,” She tilts her head. “Now it feels more exciting than scary. Now when I do something I don’t understand, my instinct is to embrace it, not be afraid of it.” She steps forward again, eyes fixed on his. “And that’s because of you.”

He grunts.

“How is that because me?” He juts his chin up. 

“ _Because_ ,” she emphasizes. “That’s _your_ instinct. Power doesn’t scare you. To you, power is opportunity, possibility. And being around you, hearing your perspective, _feeling_ your perspective…” She shrugs, her voice trailing off. “It’s affected me. It’s affected how I think about the Force, about my power through it. It’s like…” She begins to extend a hand towards him, fingers spread apart like a claw. “Somehow…” Her eyes drift to the ceiling. “I’m starting to absorb your aspect, the way you are.” She draws her hand back to herself, resting it on her heart.

He jerks back, struck by this interpretation of the bond.

He’s been wanting this, wanting her understanding of power to evolve.

But until now, he’s thought of this as happening through his encouragement, through showing her what she can accomplish. He’s never thought of it as a kind of absorption that occurs through the bond, through the connection between them.   

It’s an interesting concept. He’s not sure that’s what’s happening, but it’s intriguing to entertain, to consider. He likes the idea that she’s becoming more like him, that by just being around him, she’s starting to think and feel more like he does.

Then again, there’s another side to that coin, something more unsettling.

If she’s absorbing his aspect, then what he is absorbing from her?

He doesn’t consider the answer to this question. Instead, he keeps it at arm’s length, just a vague threat lingering in the back of his mind. Uncomfortable. Disquieting.   

“You don’t agree.” His eyes snap to Rey.

He clicks his tongue.

“It’s not that I don’t agree _per se_ …” He begins slowly. “Maybe.” He purses his lips. “Maybe you’re onto something. Maybe you’re not. But there’s really no way to test that theory, so we’ll never know for sure. What we _can_ test is whether or not we can control the bond— by examining it, examining what triggers it.” He raises an eyebrow.

Rey rolls her eyes and turns back to the table, irritated.

“Rey.” He speaks more gently now, walking towards her. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong. You may very well be right. _But_ …” He stops just a foot behind her. “If things are starting to change, if there’s even _a chance_ we could control the bond, don’t you think that’s something worth exploring?”

She sighs, dropping her shoulders. She’s still annoyed, resistant, but he can feel her softening. He waits, not for long, before she sighs again.

“Fine,” she agrees quietly. “Fine,” she repeats, turning around to face him. “But _you first_.” She points at him. “What were you thinking about the bond brought me here today?”

Kylo’s chest swells with satisfaction.

He steps forward, toe to toe with her.

“I was thinking about you,” he says confidently, eyes locked on hers.

She flinches, just slightly, but doesn’t break her gaze.

“I was thinking about how much I want you here. _With me_.”

Rey takes an uneven breath. For a moment sees it flash across her face, feels it overcome her heart, that crushing desire, everything he feels for her reflected back at him.

But she soon looks down, beginning to step away.

Without thinking, he grabs her shoulder, turning her towards him.

“Rey,” he says breathlessly. “It was like I _triggered_ the bond. I just thought about you, how much I wanted you here and then…” He grunts, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “You were here.”

She parts her lips, her eyes swimming with the implications of this.

“Has it happened before?” She tilts her head

“No,” he concedes.  

“Well…” She looks away now. “Then there’s no telling if that was really a trigger or not.” She looks back at him, shaking her head. “Maybe it was just a coincidence.”

“I don’t think it was,” he insists. “Something about this felt different, it felt like I was calling out to you. Then you arrived and well…” He looks down with a glimmer.

“What?” She knits her eyebrows.

He leans down, bringing his face closer to hers.

“I think we were calling out to each other.”

She immediately shrinks a bit, feeling self-conscious, vulnerable. She steps to the side and walks past him back to the giant window overlooking the port.

“Rey.” He calls gently as he follows her. “Why can’t you just admit it? Why can’t you admit the truth? I _felt it_ when you got here.” He stops just behind her. “You were thinking the _same thing_ , weren’t you?”

She gulps, hanging her head, her shoulders drawn in, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

He inhales deeply, fighting to keep his impatience at bay.

Finally, she begins to nod ever so slightly.

“Yes,” she confesses quietly.

“ _That’s it_!” he reaches out, turning her towards him. “That was the trigger. We _both_ thought about wanting to be with each other at the same time, and _together_ we willed it to happen.”

She starts shaking her head again.

“Ben.” She drops her arms at her sides, looking up at him. “Just because we happened to both be thinking similar things at the same time doesn’t mean it was a trigger. It still could just be a coincidence.”

He groans.

“Are you seriously not even willing to consider this?” He demands.

“ _Of course_ I am,” she insists. “But you said we needed to examine, to explore, and that means exploring all the reasons why this might not have been a trigger after all.”

“Ok, fine,” he says dryly. “What are the reasons?”

“Well…” She takes a breath. “If that really was a trigger, then why is it that I showed up here where you are and not the other way around?”

He sighs, eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

“Maybe…” He shrugs. “I thought about it first?”

“How long were you thinking about it before you felt the bond?” She narrows her eyes.

He glances up to the ceiling again.

“I don’t know. A few minutes, maybe,” he answers dismissively.

“Ah ha!” She suddenly interjects, pointing at him. “Then that can’t be the reason because I was thinking about it for much longer.” She juts her chin up smugly.

A smile tugs at his lips.

“Were you now?” He raises an eyebrow.

She immediately looks away, blushing.

But she soon suppresses her embarrassment, crossing her arms and gazing out at the port in silence. 

“What was the context?” She asks abruptly, turning to face him. “Why was it that you were thinking about me?”

He twitches, caught off guard by the question.

“Why does that matter?”

“ _Because_ ,” she articulates but stops, pursing her lips. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the bond brings you to me sometimes, and me to you other times?” She looks up at him.

He tilts his head.

“Sure. Of course.”

“Ok, well.” She widens her eyes. “I think context is the answer to that question. _And_ …” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I also think it’s the reason why the bond isn’t meant to be in our control.”

He pushes out an exhale, rolling his eyes.

Not this again…   

“Rey,” he groans. “What is it with you and not controlling the bond? Are you not tired of being pulled away or interrupted without any say in the matter?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she emphasizes. “I am. But I think that if I could control it, if _we_ could control it, then we wouldn’t be getting what we need from it.”

“And what do we need?” He flits his head, irritated.

“ _To change_ ,” she declares with confidence. “I think the bond, the Force, chooses particular moments, moments when we’re feeling vulnerable and need to see something or experience something. I think it brought me here because there’s something about right now, about this context,” she gestures the port with a hand, “that’s significant in some way. Something I need to help you see.”

He sighs heavily.

“Come on, Ben,” she goads. “You said you wanted to examine what triggers the bond. And I think _this_ is the true answer, what’s really behind it all.”

He sighs again and starts shaking his head.

“Why are you here in this room right now?” She continues to press him. “What were you doing that made you think of me?”

He turns away to face the port, crossing his arms tightly, his patience wearing thin…

Rey waits beside him, eager for his answer. He can feel her eyes on him, feel her anticipation.

“I was…” He slides his jaw to the side. He straightens a bit, squaring his shoulders, eyes fixed firmly on the flurry of motion below. “I was trying to find a negotiator,” he finally admits. “From the lower ranks. Like you suggested. For the past hour, I’ve been reviewing the finalists.”

“Hmm,” she muses to herself. He can sense she’s pleased with this. “And?”

“And they’re all idiots,” he snipes, turning to face her. “Every one of them,” he practically growls. “Rey, you don’t understand the kinds of people who are in the First Order’s lower ranks.” His blood starts to quicken in his veins. “They’re small-minded people. They were recruited _because_ they have no ambition, because they can’t see any further than what’s right in front of them. It makes them good supply workers and technicians and engineers but piss poor at everything else.” He fumes, turning back the port.

“They don’t have what it takes to be the kind of negotiator I need. No one in this _entire damn organization_ is the kind of negotiator I need.” He finishes through gritted teeth.

He glares at the port with a tightened jaw.

“I need you,” he says quietly. He sighs, dropping his shoulders

“It’s not just negotiation,” he continues. “No one in the First Order is ready for what we need to do. To them, it’s like we’re still at war, a never-ending war. They’re too _fixed_ on the past, on what we were, to look to the future to and see what we must become.”

“And what’s that?” Rey asks softly. 

“An empire,” he snaps towards her. “The government that rules the galaxy, a government that brings peace, order, and prosperity, a government that people not only fear but admire and respect. _That’s_ what we must become.” He turns to fully face her, dark eyes intense, silently urging her to see the truth, _that she is_ _meant_ to be part of how this comes into being.

She stares evenly, taking in everything, processing.

She soon shifts the port again, gazing out at the black-clad figures forever scurrying around like ants. He watches her closely, sensing her emotions, a strange inward grating between frustrated weariness and something like admiration. She sighs, crossing her arms.

Suddenly, he feels a shift her, inward churning replaced by a kind of brightness, like she just discovered something. She looks up at him, a question in her eyes.

“Is there…?” She begins hesitantly. “Is there anyone in the First Order who...” She pauses, pressing her lips together. “Who you actually like? Someone you’d consider a friend?”

Kylo gapes at her.

How is that relevant to _anything_ they’ve been discussing?

He scoffs, looking away for a moment, trying to process the question. 

“ _What?_ ” He looks back at her, irritated.

“You heard me.” She nods at him. “Do you have any friends in the First Order?” 

He scoffs again, then lets out a laugh, shaking his head at the utter ridiculousness of the idea.

“Rey.” His tone is condescending. “Why do you think I wear a mask?” He gestures at the table behind them. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m the Supreme Leader. I stand above everyone. When people see me, they should fear and respect me as their sovereign, _not_ as a friend.”

At this, she rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” she says with a huff. “Then, is there anyone here who’s company you find…” Her voice trails off as she searches for the right word. “Pleasant?” She offers tentatively.

He grunts, turning away from her.

“Or maybe just personable, an interesting character?” He still doesn’t answer, clasping his hands behind his back as he looks out the window.  

“Intriguing?”  Still nothing.

“Tolerable?” She’s starting to sound frustrated.

He squints, looking down at the port, thinking. Several seconds pass, and he says nothing.

“ _Ben!_ ” Rey cries out next to him. “ _Are you kidding me!?_ ”

He turns to find her staring in disbelief.

“There’s not a single person in the _entire First Order_ you find at least tolerable on a personal level?” He looks away, shaking his head, more in irritation than in answer to her.

“Rey, why the hell are you asking me this?” He twitches. “What does this have to do with _anything_ we’ve been talking about? Or is this it?” He turns, sneering. “Is this why you think the bond brought you here today? To pester me about not having friends?” His tone is snide.

She stiffens and turns back towards the window. She tenses her shoulders, staring off silently.

“Ben,” she says finally, her tone softer now. “When you look out there…” She gestures at the port. “What do you see?” She looks up at him.

He glances out the window, shrugging.

“It just a port, Rey,” he answers, irritated. “It’s just technicians and supply workers preparing transports for take-off. A few of them are engineers. Probably some officers.”

At this, she scoffs softly.

“You don’t see people? Individuals?” She probes.

He furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” He looks down at her.

“ _I mean_ ,” she begins earnestly, “don’t you ever look down there and wonder about them, all these people working for you? Don’t you ever wonder about their lives, their cares and concerns, whether or not they’re happy here?”

He flits his head in confusion.

“What would be the point of that?”

“ _To be a human being!_ ” She practically yells this, hands flying out in exasperation.  

But she catches herself, regaining composure.

“ _And_ ,” she articulates more evenly, “to be a better leader.”

At this, he narrows his eyes. 

“Ben.” She turns to fully face him. “You say you want to change the First Order, your priorities, who you are, what you do. You say you want to be a fair and just ruler, bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy.” She raises an eyebrow. “Well, have you ever considered that you’d be in a better position to do that if you actually _know_ more about the people working for you, _know_ about the people you rule, not as your pawns or your subjects, but just as people?”

He purses his lips, glancing back at the port.

“I understand,” she continues, “that people need to see you as a leader and not a friend. But if you want to inspire a change, maybe you should make an effort to get to know the heart of the organization, the individuals who make everything happen, from the very top to the very bottom. And if you want people to respect and admire you as a ruler, maybe you should try to understand them better, who they are, what they care about. Maybe it’s time for you to be more to them than just a scary man in a mask.”

He still looks out at the port with crossed arms, tensing his jaw.

Rey sighs heavily.

“All I’m saying…” She’s starting to sound weary now. “Is maybe you could accomplish more if you take the time to see people for who they are and not just how they can serve you. I mean…” She grunts softly. “Right now, it seems like when you look at a person, any person, the only value you see in them is how they can be useful to you. You even…” Her voice trails off and she bows her head, sinking inwardly.

“You even see me that way,” she finishes quietly.

He immediately drops his arms, whipping to face her.

“ _Rey_.” His eyes are wide with disbelief. “That _is not_ true,” he insists, stepping closer.

She doesn’t turn her face up but remains still, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” He looks down at her, incredulous.

She still doesn’t move, her shoulders scrunched into her ears.

“Do you remember…” She finally speaks, taking a weak inhale. “When you first found out I could hear the kyber crystals?”

He nods but she doesn’t see it, still looking down.

She exhales heavily.

“Do you remember what you said?”

He knits his eyebrows, thinking back.

“You said…” She struggles to continue. “You said that I was special,” she finishes at a whisper.

“I _thought_ …” She presses her lips together. “I thought you meant…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you just meant me. I didn’t realize…” Her shoulders drop. “What you really saw was someone who could help you mine kyber. You didn’t really see me. You only saw what I could do for you.” She turns away from him.

“Rey,” he says her name softly, a twist in his heart. He reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

She still hangs her head, staring down at the floor.

“Rey, look at me.”

She doesn’t move, tensing her body.

He leans down a little.

“Please,” he whispers, bringing and index finger to her chin and turning her face up to his.

She finally looks up, brown eyes glistening with tears.

The pain in his heart deepens.

He frames her face with his hands, brushing away stray tears with a thumb.

“Rey, when I said you were special, I meant _you_ ,” he assures, impassioned. “It true…” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s true that I see your power. I feel it. I think about what we can accomplish together. But when I look at you?” He leans down more, bringing his face close to hers. “I see you. _Just_ you.”

Her throat tightens, a few more tears escaping down her cheeks. She tries to pull away, but he drops a hand to her waist, keeping her close.

He stares down for a moment, dark eyes pleading with hers, before he shifts, his lips descending to her ear.

“Surely, you must know that,” he whispers. “Surely, you must feel that.”

She takes a sharp breath, and he pulls her in closer.

“Rey, please tell me you know that,” he begs her, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other at her waist. “ _Please_.” He pulls away, just enough to see her face, to look into her eyes. He churns in agony, tormented by the idea that she thinks he only sees her as some tool he can use and not _everything_ she is, everything he loves about her.

And at all at once, that beautiful, crushing feeling overwhelms him in a sudden wave, and he can’t wait, can’t hold himself back any longer.  

He takes her lips hungrily, pouring everything he feels for her into a passionate embrace, the way he grips her warm body, the way he kisses her like she’s the only thing that matters.

She doesn’t fight him or push him back.

But she doesn’t quite give in either.

Part of her wants to. Part of her is just content to be in his arms, content to let her muscles relax, let her palms slide up his chest.

But there’s a part of her that remains uncertain and guarded, that keeps her desire in check, keeps her from returning his passion with her own.  

Suddenly, he unlocks his lips from hers and bring them to the soft skin just next to her ear.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers, drawing her into him. “Tell me you know I see you. _Just_ you _._ For who you are.”

He pulls back to see her face again, to look into her eyes, and she looks up, trembling, overcome with emotion.

He waits, bursting with impatience, so close to her he can feel her breath on his skin.

Her lips part and for a split second, he could swear he sees her start to nod.

But he’s not sure.

Because just as he sees the movement, she disappears, her eyes, her breath, her warmth, her presence gone in an instant, cruelly snatched away just at the crucial moment.

He drops his hands, shaken by the abruptness of it. He looks at the space where Rey used to be, breathing heavily. The heat begins to die down, gradually replaced by a kind of numbness. He stands silently for a minute.

Then he grits his teeth.

In the next instant, he lets out a violent roar, whipping towards the meeting table, casting all the chairs surrounding it to the back of the room with a single flick of his wrist. He watches them crash into one another in a disordered, mangled pile. He whips round to face the port, sucking in an inhale, _fuming_. 

_DAMN IT!_

_Why_ does the bond do this? Why does it take her away just when they’re closest, just when they’re _most_ absorbed in one another, _killing_ the moment, killing the opportunity?  

He covers his eyes with a palm.

He’s so sick of this. He’s so sick of missing her like this. He’s so sick of being at the mercy of the bond, of the Force and its whims.

Who the hell knows what the bond is for, what it’s purpose is?

All he knows is that he wants her, just _wants_ her. He wants her with him once and for all.

He slicks his palm over his face, still fuming.

Suddenly, he straightens, startled by the crackle of the comm at his belt.

He snatches it and brings it to his lips.

“ _What?_ ” He demands. 

“The next candidate has arrived, sir,” an operator announces.

Kylo rolls his eyes.

“I _cancelled_ the interviews,” he hisses, turning to the window. “Get rid of—”

Suddenly, he stops, stiffening.

“Wait,” he commands, dropping his hand at his side.

He gazes at the port, at all the technicians and supply workers scurrying swiftly about their business. He watches them, thinking.

Then he brings the comm back to his lips.

“Give me a minute,” he commands. “Then send him in.”

He returns the device to his belt, continuing to stare out the window, trying to regain his focus, redirect his attention to his work.

After few seconds, he turns and strides to the meeting table.

He picks up his mask, beginning to lift it overhead but suddenly stops half way. He lowers it, adjusting it to face him, looking down coldly.

Then he sets it on the table and walks back to the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

He hears a door whir open, then footsteps approaching briskly, stopping a few feet behind him.

“Sir.” A young voice announces.

Kylo continues to stare at the port.

Then he turns slowly.

Standing before him is not a man but a boy. He can’t be a day over twenty. He’s lanky, with brown hair cropped short, and a thin, narrow face, pale but healthy. He looks up at Kylo with wide eyes, surprised to see his actual face. He tries to to look straight ahead, but he can’t seem to stop his eyes from drifting back towards him.

He’s twitchy. The boy can’t keep still.

But he’s not afraid. He’s the first candidate to step into this room today without trembling.

Kylo observes him for another moment.

Then he turns away, resuming his observance of the port below.

“Tell me your name and position,” he commands.

“Sylas Bonden, sir,” he answers confidently. “I’m a technician with the 368th division.”

“And what’s so special about you, Sylas?”

“Sir?” The boy sounds confused.   

“You beat over a thousand candidates for this interview, boy,” Kylo informs him. “How did you do that?” He hears him take a deep breath.

“Because,” he starts matter-of-factly. “I can do anything.”

Kylo turns his body slightly, looking back with narrowed eyes.

“I can fix anything,” the boy continues. “I can tweak anything. I can change a blaster into an infra-red sensor. I can take apart a speeder and put it back together as an AC compactor. I can take care of a major wound without a bacta bandage. I remember everything, even stuff I don’t want to. I can keep my focus even when there’s a thousand voices in my head. Put me anywhere in the First Order, and I’ll succeed. I bet I’d even be a great general.”

Kylo holds in a scoff, turning to fully face the boy.

_What a cocky little thing…_

He steps forward, observing the young technician with an amused smirk.  

“And how did you come to join the First Order?” He asks.

The boy glances up briefly, then looks straight ahead.

“I was recruited out of a fueling depot on Radnor ten months ago, sir.” He looks calm but Kylo feels the smallest pang of fear along with a familiar sinking feeling, grating like an elevator out of order, going down when it should be going up.

He charges forward abruptly, stopping just a foot away.

“You’re _lying_ to me, boy.” He bears over him.

The young man’s head snaps up, eyes wide.

 _Now_ he’s starting to tremble.

“Why would you do that?” He cocks his head. “Why would you lie to your Supreme Leader?”

“I-I,” Sylas stutters, dumfounded.

Kylo waits, towering menacingly, watching as the boy frantically searches his mind for something to say. After several seconds, he raises a hand, rifling freely through his mind.

 Suddenly, Kylo jerks back, shocked.

“ _You_.” He points at the boy. “You were caught stealing from a First Order transport.” He stares down in disbelief. “How is it that you weren’t immediately executed?”

Now the boy’s _really_ trembling.

“I-I…” He’s starting to panic now, his breath growing quick and labored.

Kylo lifts a hand once more, reaching inside his mind to pluck the answer out for himself.

He can’t stop from scoffing loudly once he does.

He takes a step back, looking the boy over carefully, utterly _fascinated_.

“You convinced a superior officer to recruit you instead of kill you.” He grunts.

Sylas is turning white now.

“Do you know what the punishment for that is?” His tone darkens. “For failing to execute a thief on site?”

The boy looks up with pleading eyes.

“Don’t,” he begs. “Please don’t. Officer Voors is the one who recommended me. He’s invaluable to you, to the First Order, _I promise_.”

“Calm down, boy,” Kylo informs him dismissively, turning away to walk back to the window. “I’m not executing anyone today.”

Kylo stands before the port again, thinking, the young technician practically hyperventilating behind him.

Convincing a First Order officer to recruit a thief... At risk to the officer’s own life…

Now _that_ is a feat of persuasion.

“Where are you from?” Kylo asks, growing more intrigued.

“Uh…” The boy manages to vocalize through his panting. “I-I’m not sure,” he finally says.

Kylo turns around, knitting his eyebrows.

“What do you mean you’re _not sure?_ ”

The boy gulps.

“I mean…” His breath starts to even, but his face is still white with fear. “I just don’t know.” He shrugs. “The first planet I remember being on was Ertegas. But that’s not the planet I was born on.”

“And how do you know that?” Kylo steps towards him.

“Because,” Sylas lets out an exhale. “I worked on the farms with all the other orphans and corporate records said I was brought there by an off-world smuggler.”

“Your father?” Kylo stops just in front of the boy.

“Maybe.” He shrugs.

Kylo observes him softly, the smallest twist in his heart, a pang of compassion. He stands for a moment then steps to the side, beginning to pace.

“And how long were you on Ertegas?” He asks, circling him.

“Until I was uh… about twelve.” The young man takes a deep breath.

“And where did you go after that?” Kylo studies him closely, in front of him now.

“All over.” Sylas shifts nervously but tries to keep still, his gaze fixed forward.

“All over where?” Kylo probes.  

“The Outer Rim, mostly.” He tilts his head. “The Western Reaches every now and then.”

Kylo purses his lips, continuing to pace around him.

“And what were you doing that had you moving around so much?” He stops abruptly next him, narrowing his eyes, _very_ curious to hear the answer.

Sylas gulps.

“Well…” He starts, trying to sound calm. “I was kinda… uh… doing… uh… odd jobs and stuff.”

Kylo rolls his eyes, extending a hand to snatch the truth out of the boy’s mind. He searches his memories for a few seconds before whipping his hand back like he just touched a flame.

“You were part of the _Merdos Synicate?_ ” He stares down in disbelief.

“ _Oh shit!_ ” Sylas completely loses composure now, bringing both hands to cover his ears, starting to hyperventilate again. “ _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!_ ” He repeats, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palms against the sides of his head as though this could keep Kylo from creeping into his mind again.

Kylo sighs and shakes his head, reaching for Sylas’s wrist.

“ _Stop_ ,” he commands, wrenching a hand away from his ear. Sylas drops his hand and but still looks terrified, white with fear and gasping with short, shallow inhales.

“Listen,” he looks up at Kylo, panicked. “It was just for survival, _alright!?_ I was sick of working on the farms and when I ran away, the freighter I was on got randomly tagged by Riker Vos’s cronies. _They only let me live because I told them I could fix their hyperdrive!_ ” He practically squeaks. “Then they brought me to Vos and for some reason he liked me and…” He croaks, looking down.

“ _But Vos was an asshole_ ,” Sylas spits. “ _I hated him_. I hated those guys. I’m glad you blasted ‘em to space. They _deserved_ it!” He finishes with fire in his eyes. Then he gulps, shrinking back a bit.

Kylo stares down silently for a few moments.

Then he turns and strides back towards the window.

“And what kinds of things did Vos have you do?” He looks out at the port once more.

Sylas struggles to regain his composure, churning wildly with fear.

“Just uh…” He tries to take a breath, but it’s labored, like he’s been sprinting. “Just whatever. Stealing, mostly. I was on mission for Vos when Officer Voors caught me.”

Kylo purses his lips, reviewing what he’s learned about this boy.

He’s travelled the Outer Rim.

He’s actually _worked_ for one of the Outer Rim gangs.

And he has a knack for talking himself out of getting killed.

“What can you tell me,” he starts slowly, “about the Lords of Asphodel?” He waits, cautiously optimistic.

“Um…” Sylas sounds confused, caught off guard by the question. He blows out a puff of air. “I mean…” He gulps. “They’re kinda preachy. But they’re not too bad. As long as you don’t bring up the Spire.”

The smallest smile creeps across Kylo’s lips.

“And why shouldn’t one do that?” He turns to face the boy slowly.

“Because…” Sylas shrugs weakly, no longer churning with fear but weighed down with emotional exhaustion. “They hate it. It’s like the casino on Cantonica but it floats, a huge city just floating all over Anthan Prime.” He lifts a finger, pointing to the ceiling. “That’s why they do what they do. They think the parliament pours too much money into it. Which…” Sylas scrunches his face. “I’ve been to the planet and well, I’d be pissed off too if I was living in a slum while everybody else was kicking back in a luxury city in the sky. Anyway…” He twitches. “They just hate that Spire and if you bring it up, they’ll never shut up about it. Especially Lord Ixion.”

Kylo immediately raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve met their leader?”

Sylas bobs his head lightly.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I fixed his blaster once.”

Kylo takes a slow breath, swelling with satisfaction.

“Sylas,” he begins, stepping forward. “I’m going to give you a choice.” He stops a few feet away from him. “If you choose, you can walk out of this room today and go back where you came from, back to your unit.”

The boy’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You mean you’re not kicking me out?” He looks up, hopeful.

“No,” Kylo answers flatly.

“That’s…” The boy lets out an exhale. “ _Great._ Thank you, sir.” His shoulders drop in relief.

“Or…” Kylo continues. “You can be promoted.”

At this, the boy croaks, his mouth dropping open. He freezes, completely in shock.

“W-what?” He sputters.

Kylo stares down evenly. Then he steps to the side.

“I need a negotiator, Sylas.” He begins to pace, circling again. “I need someone who knows the Outer Rim rabble— the gangs, the rebel groups. I need someone smart, someone cunning, someone with a silver tongue. I need someone who can convince a rebel leader like Lord Ixion…” He stops just in front of the boy. “To pull his men out of the iridium mines on Anthem Prime and give them over to the First Order.”

Sylas looks up, gulping.

“Can’t you just…” He starts hesitantly. “Blow them up and take it?”

“I can,” Kylo states matter-of-factly. “Is that what you think I should do?” He cocks his head. “Blow them all up?” He leans down, and the boy shrinks.

“Uh… no?” He offers tentatively, squinting.

Kylo straightens, observing him for a moment. Then he resumes his pacing, clasping his hands behind him.

“The First Order _needs_ access to those mines,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ll take them by force if we have to. But perhaps that won’t be necessary.” He begins walking towards the port. “Depending on you, Sylas. Depending on whether you choose to accept this position. And on your ability to persuade.” He stops just in front of the window.

“Well…” Sylas starts to regain some confidence. “I can tell you right now the Lords will give you whatever you want of you blow up the Spire.”

“We’re _not_ blowing up the Spire,” Kylo responds emphatically. “We need to come to terms, terms that Lords, the Anthan government, _and_ the First Order will accept.” He hears Sylas gulp behind him.

“Won’t that be hard?” He asks.

“Yes,” Kylo answers, turning to face him. “But you can do anything. _Right?_ ” He articulates the word pointedly.

Sylas widens his eyes.

“Right,” he repeats, trying to sound sure of himself.

“Good,” Kylo says. “So, what will it be?” He takes a step forward. “Where will you go when you leave this room today? Will you return to your unit? Or will you be packing your bags for Anthan Prime?”

Sylas stares up at him, half in awe and half in shock, like he can’t believe this is real. After a moment, he looks down, letting out a slow breath. He thinks for a minute, fidgeting. But he soon begins to nod, subtly at first, then more dramatically.

He snaps his head up, eyes sharp with determination.

“I’ll be packing my bags, sir,” he announces decisively.

Kylo’s lips turn up slightly.

“Then you better get going,” he tells him. “You leave at 0700 tomorrow morning. You’ll meet me here at 0600 for a debriefing with General Kas. Kas will deal with the Anthan government. _You_ will deal with the Lords.”

Sylas straightens, squaring his shoulders.

“Ok. Right. Good.” He takes a breath, starting to look pleased with himself. “This is good.” He looks up to Kylo, eyes glowing with excitement. “Thank you, sir. I’m not going to let you down, sir. I really can do anything. You’ll see.” He squints with a mischievous glint.

“Yes. I will,” Kylo responds coolly.

The boy’s face falls flat, and he nods briskly.  

“Go now,” Kylo commands turning to face the port.

 _For once_ , he doesn’t have to repeat himself, the boy immediately walking swiftly to the end of the room.

“ _Wait_.” Kylo whips around just as Sylas reaches the door.

“Sir?” The boy turns, eyes wide and expectant.

Kylo walks towards him, then stops next to the meeting table.

“Why…?” He begins carefully. “Why did you stay?” He tilts his head. “After the officer caught you stealing. A clever boy like you, a boy who can do anything…” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure you could have snuck away, if you were so inclined. So why did you stay with the First Order?”

Sylas jerks back, surprised by the question. He blinks a couple of times, struggling to process it. He looks down, thinking, like he’s not really sure of the answer himself.

Finally, he looks up, his dark eyes distant.

“I just…” He shakes his head slowly. “I just wanted to get away from Vos and…” He sighs. “I kind of wanted to stay put for a while. In one place, you know? Long enough for it to feel almost like…” His eyes soften as his voice trails off. “Home.” He shrugs. “And it seemed pretty low key here, at least where I was. Simple. Easy. Safe.” He grunts.  “ _Comparatively_.” He smirks to himself, looking down.

 Suddenly, his head snaps up, like something just occurred to him.

“Not that I’m not grateful for this opportunity, sir,” he adds quickly. “I was starting to get stir crazy, anyways.” He twitches, shifting a bit as if to demonstrate this.

Kylo stares down at him in silence.

“You’re dismissed,” he commands quietly.

Sylas gives a short nod and turns, exiting the room swiftly.

Kylo watches, unmoving, still staring at the door even after it whirs shut. His mind is absorbed, fascinated by this discovery.

What an improbability… to find someone like this in the ranks of the First Order. An Outer Rim orphan. Not a carefully vetted recruit but a thief who talked his way out of execution. A rogue, an outsider, yet somehow able to blend in, to adapt. A contradiction, cocksure and hardened by life but still…

Vulnerable.

Kylo purses his lips. He turns absently to face the window, still lost in thought. After a few moments, he blinks and shakes his head, his focus returning to the present. He straightens, gazing out at the port a final time.

The figures below race by, weaving around one another, hectic but purposeful. Kylo studies them, noticing individuals here and there, a portly man pushing along an empty hoverlift, a short woman furiously entering notes on a datapad, a boy not much older than Sylas running towards a transport, waving his hands in a cross motion overhead.

He observes them quietly.

Then, he turns, striding towards the meeting table and sweeping up his mask in one swift motion. He brings it overhead, clicking into place as he charges towards the door.

He exits the room without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, the time has come. I'll be switching to a bi-weekly posting schedule, updating with a new chapter every two weeks. The next update will be September 29th. 
> 
> Sorry! Work has just gotten too intense for me to finish a chapter within a week! Thank you for your understanding. And as always, thank you for reading!


	25. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren receives disturbing news about an impending Outer Rim invasion.

“We’re well on our way, sir.”

Colonel Vaden leans forward in his chair, thin lips twisting into a self-satisfied smirk.

“The First Order now controls _sixty percent_ of the galaxy’s known varium deposits. We’re absolutely swimming in the stuff. We’ve already mined well over what we need.”

Kylo Ren paces the room, his shoulders relaxed, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. To the untrained eye, he would appear cold, dispassionate.

But the three men sitting around the meeting table know their Supreme Leader well enough to tell when he’s in a good mood. He likes what he’s hearing…

“And cortosis?” He asks in his distorted voice. “How much of that do we control?”

Colonel Reza sits up now, uncrossing his arms. 

“We’ll have a lot more by the end of the week.” The square-jawed man turns his head sharply. “Once we destroy the scum on Apatros, fifty percent of the galaxy’s known deposits will be ours.”

“That’s not what I asked you, colonel.” The Supreme Leader sounds irritated now. “How much does the First Order control _today_?”

The colonel flushes a bit, embarrassed.  

“Nearly a third of it, sir,” he answers quickly.

Kylo Ren doesn’t react, only continues pacing.

“And iridium?”

Colonel Foss squares his shoulders, fighting the urge to gulp. He can’t help but curse the cruel twist of fate that put _him_ in charge of overseeing iridium extraction.

Then again, it could be worse. He could have been assigned the kyber mines...

He shudders inwardly at the thought.

“Well, sir,” the portly man begins. “As you know, we’ve had quite a few problems negotiating with the iridium-rich systems. As a result, we currently control…” He stiffens. “Five percent of the galaxy’s iridium.”

The Supreme Leader halts, pushing out an exhale.  

The colonel sulks in his seat.

It’s not _his_ fault. He’s in charge of extraction, not negotiation. He can’t extract what he doesn’t have access to…

Suddenly, the colonel jerks back, startled by the crackle of a comm. The Supreme Leader reaches for his commlink, muting the receiver.

“Tell me our progress in the mines we _do_ control.” Kylo Ren resumes his pacing.

Colonel Foss perks up now, his face brightening. Now he gets to give _good news_ …

“We’re making excellent progress, sir, absolutely phenomenal.” The colonel beams. “Extraction in the Core Worlds and Inner Rim systems is nearly two/thirds of the way done, estimated to be complete within the year.” He juts his chin up. “Of course, that’s where we’re focusing our manpower, so the mines in other systems aren’t _quite_ as far along, but—”

“The _numbers_ colonel.” The Supreme Leader cuts him off. “Give me the _numbers_ for each territory.”

“Of course, sir.” The colonel glances at the data pad in front of him. “Extraction in the Core Worlds is at eighty percent. The Inner Rim is at sixty-five percent. The Expansion region is at forty-five. The Mid Rim is at thirty. And the Outer Rim is at fifteen.” He inhales sharply, waiting for the Supreme Leader’s response.

At first, he says nothing, continuing to pace around the table.

But soon he starts to nod.    

“Good.”

Colonel Foss lets out his breath, not realizing he was holding it in.

“Given the size of your teams, that’s good.” Kylo Ren halts, turning to face the men. “But that’s about to change.”

The colonels shift in their seats. They glance at each other nervously.

“It’s why I called this meeting.” The Supreme Leader turns, beginning to pace again. “I’ve just been informed that by the end of the month, we’ll have over three thousand new recruits to add to our extraction teams.”

The men instantly brighten.

“You’re here to help me determine how these new forces should be divided.”

Colonel Foss leans forward with hungry eyes.

“Well, I can tell you right now, sir, I would be in a _much_ better position—”

The colonel jerks to the door, interrupted by the crackle of a comm.

“Apologies, but I have an urgent message for the Supreme Leader,” a voice announces.

Kylo Ren charges to the door and slaps a panel next to it.  

“ _What?_ ” He demands as the door whirs open.

“I’m sorry, sir.” A middle-aged officer stands at attention outside. “We tried to reach you on your commlink but it must be malfunctioning.”

“It’s _muted_.” The Supreme Leader grits his teeth. “I’m in a meeting. What’s so important?”

The officer gulps.

“I have a message from General Petrov, sir.” He squares his shoulders.

Kylo pushes past the man, stepping outside the room.

“Shouldn’t he be _mid battle_ right now?” He growls through his mask.

“Yes, well…” The officer tenses. “That’s what the message is regarding. It turns out the pre-invasion report you approved was missing something.” He pauses. “Something he thought you’d want to know.”

“ _What?_ ” Kylo demands, struggling to think of a _single_ _good reason_ why a general would delay a carefully planned and vetted assault.

“Th-the cortosis…” the officer begins tepidly. “It’s interfering with our scans of the Blood Dawn bases. We didn’t pick up one of our trackers until last night.”

Kylo instantly goes cold.

“Someone on the no kill/no injury list is in gang’s central headquarters.”

“Who?” The Supreme Leader steps forward, bearing over the man.

“P-patient 8097, sir,” the officer stammers.  

A pang of fear seizes Kylo’s gut. For a moment, he just stands, frozen.

The next instant, he charges forward, his boots clicking swiftly against the pristine floors of the hall. He snatches the comm at his belt.

“Prepare my shuttle,” he commands. “What are her vitals?” He calls back to the officer.

“They’re stable now.” The man runs to catch up. “But they dropped severely twelve hours ago, almost to code yellow.”

“ _What!?_ ” Kylo rages. “Why am I just hearing about this _now_?”

“W-well, it’s—” He’s interrupted by the crackle of a comm.

“Destination?” A voice asks through the static.

Kylo whips the comm to his mask.

“Apatros.”

“It’s not in the protocol, sir,” the officer finishes quickly.

“Then _change_ the protocol,” the Supreme Leader snipes. “If her vitals drop anywhere below normal, _I want to_ _know_ _about it_.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer says dutifully, entering a note on his pad. “And what should I tell General Petrov?”

Kylo slows, quickly assessing the situation, running through the options in his mind. Try as he might, he only sees one…  

He can’t call off the invasion. It’s too late for that now. They’ve already revealed themselves, surrounded the bases, the troops preparing to break through.

“Tell him to wait until I arrive,” Kylo commands. “I’ll be leading the ground forces in the assault.”

“ _Sir?_ ” The officer halts, eyes wide.    

“ _You heard me_ ,” Kylo growls. “Do it.”

He strides forward, not looking back, only looking forward, his mind fixed on nothing but the terrifying reality.

They have her.

Blood Dawn, their next target. One of the most vicious gangs in the Outer Rim. She’s captured, injured, trapped in the gang’s headquarters…

And it’s about to become a war zone.

***

A man crouches, taut and ready, one of hundreds lined in rows behind a make-shift barricade, his blaster pointed directly at the wall ahead.

The wall is huge, tall and thick, made of cortosis and reinforced with quantum armor. It was built to last, to withstand _any_ assault from _any_ weapon.

The man gulps.

Then again, no one’s ever tried to crack it open with a First Order siege canon.

He can hear it just outside. They all can. The rising and falling hum of the cannon as it gears up to release a devastating blast straight into the side of the compound.

They say it’s a superlaser canon. They say it’s a miniaturized version of the Death Star…

The man chokes out an exhale, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He tries to steady himself but can’t seem to keep from trembling, his blaster rattling in his hands.

He grips it more tightly.  

This is it. This is the day. His last day.

He hardens his jaw, hardens his body, as if tensing his muscles will somehow strengthen his resolve.

But he can’t stop the thought from flashing across his mind.

He shouldn’t have joined Blood Dawn. He should have stayed on Bonadan instead. Maybe saved up enough money to buy some land…

He straightens, sucking in an inhale.

 _No_.

He was never cut out for that life, never cut out for being tied down, slaving away day in and day out.

And for what? A pittance? To barely scrape by?

 _No_.

Blood Dawn’s given him everything he always wanted. To be in charge. To be _the boss_. Control his own life, his own destiny.

He’s done what he’s wanted. He’s taken what he’s wanted. He’s lied, he’s cheated, he’s killed, but he’s never apologized. _Not once_.

And he’s not about to start now.

The man shifts, adjusting his grip on his blaster.

No, he doesn’t have any regrets. If he could go back, he’d make the same choice. He’d rather live a short life with Blood Dawn, free and unrestrained, than scrape by, beleaguered and broken, for a million years on Bonadan.

Besides, this isn’t the end. Not really. Blood Dawn may die today, but their legacy will live on.

They’ve been ready for this. It was only matter of time before the First Order showed up on their doorstep. They just didn’t know when.

There’s no winning this battle. They’re outnumbered, outgunned, outmatched…

But they have a surprise waiting, a _nasty_ one, something the First Order won’t expect, something they wouldn’t even _dream_ of…

The man smirks.

Yes, Blood Dawn is about to make history. They’re about to go down as _the very first_ crime syndicate to spit directly in the First Order’s eye.

He can almost picture it, almost see it in his mind. He’s never stepped foot on a dreadnought but he can imagine its smooth floors, consoles lining the walls, black clad officers and Stormtroopers marching in rows. He pictures an officer racing down the hall, weaving through throngs of people before sprinting up a flight of stairs that leads directly to the command center.

He imagines the officer halting, gasping for breath, just before the Supreme Leader who stands tall and imposing, wearing that mask, the image he’s seen so many times in holos. He sees it in his mind, Kylo Ren turning, looking relaxed and confident, fully expecting to hear good news.

Then he pictures the officer telling him, telling the Supreme Leader what happened here today.

He probably won’t react at first. He’ll probably just stand there, dumbfounded.

Then he’ll be furious. _Furious_. Absolutely _insane_ with anger. He’ll whip out that red laser sword and wreak havoc, screaming and thrashing, destroying everything in sight. He’ll curse Blood Dawn’s name, curse himself for ever provoking them, for trying to take what is _rightfully theirs_ —

The man’s thoughts grind to a halt.

The humming… The humming of the laser canon.

It stopped.

**_BOOM!_ **

In an instant, he’s flying through the air, thrust back by an explosive blast. He lands with a crack, scrambling for his blaster. He snatches it up and whips around to face the front of the compound, ready _to fight_ , ready _to fire_.

He grips the rifle, eyes trained doggedly forward.

There’s a giant, mangled hole in the wall. He can’t see what’s outside, only thick clouds of sand and smoke filling the open space. He watches the dust settle, index finger twitching at the trigger.

Then he sees it. A tall figure emerging from the fog…

He snarls, pressing to fire.

But suddenly, he freezes, his blood running cold. He can’t move, can’t blink, only stare in wide-eyed shock at the image before him.

A masked Kylo Ren strides into the compound, swatting away blaster fire with his lightsaber. His demeanor is calm, casual, like he’s taking a stroll through a park and not a war zone.

With a single wave of his hand, he knocks down the makeshift barricade, equipment flying left and right, crashing into throngs of men. Stormtroopers pour in behind him, charging forward with all manner of arms— blaster rifles, flamethrowers, laser axes, repeating gunners, every weapon imaginable.

The compound descends into chaos, men screaming and running, plasma shots ripping through armor and flesh, melee weapons cracking and slicing.

Kylo Ren strides forward, deflecting blaster fire, casting groups of men into the air with a flick of his hand, occasionally running his blade through a brave soul who dares to get close.

Normally, he’d be enjoying this.

He loves the heat of battle, the chaotic calmness, like being in the eye of a storm. In any other circumstance, he might be thinking about how he should do this more often, lead the troops himself, take a break from an endless string of meetings and just spend an afternoon hacking and slashing.

But he’s much too preoccupied to think about such things.

He’s on a mission, his mind fixed on _one goal_.

Find Rey. Get her out of here. _Now_.  

He charges forward, heading straight for a thick blast door. He rips his way through, cutting an opening with his blade and pushing through the molten edges of metal, singing thick fabric at his shoulders. He strides down a wide hall, its surface covered in dirt, deflecting bursts of fire coming through openings to his left and right.

Several men race into the hall just ahead, yelling and firing their blasters. Kylo Ren reflects the fire back at them with the swing of his saber. He steps over their bodies, barely slowing down, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

According to their intel, the entrance to the mines should be close. This entire compound is built over a massive cortosis deposit, a labyrinth of underground tunnels stretching out for miles. But Blood Dawn keeps them carefully guarded, only one way in— right here, their central headquarters.

He needs to find that entrance.

Because that’s where Rey is. Not in the compound but under it, somewhere in the darkness of the mines. It’s why they’ve had such trouble picking up her tracker.

 _Of course_ , she’s in the mines.

Because that’s where the slaves are.   

He can only imagine why she’s there, how she got herself into this mess, what happened that made her vitals drop so severely.

And that’s exactly what he’s been doing since he found out she was here. _Imagining_ , his mind instinctively going to the darkest places. He sees her broken and bruised. Traumatized. Maybe an open wound, festering. Or maybe a missing limb…

He keeps reminding himself how powerful she is, what he’s seen her do. She’s taken down men twice, three times her size. Entire groups of them. She’s Force blinded, _frozen time_.

But she’s still human.

Vulnerable. Fallible. And so reckless….

He picks up his pace, charging towards another blast door.

He rips a gash down the center and is met by a barrage of fire the moment he splits the metal. He steps to the side, waiting as several footsteps approach from the other side. A second later, the long barrel of a blaster rifle creeps through the opening. Kylo lunges forward, gripping the barrel with a gloved hand and yanking it through. He casts it down the hall then turns to rip his way through the door, slicing through two men as he does.

He grabs another man by the neck, bashing him against the wall, then reflects a rain of plasma shots to their sources, riddling his attackers with their own fire.

_There it is._

A thick hatch built into the floor, sealed shut, probably made of cortosis. He won’t be able to cut through this one so easily…

He pushes towards it, hacking at a couple men and knocking the others into the wall, their bodies cracking loudly before crumpling to the floor. He whips out a hand, fingers spread like a claw, and reaches through the Force to grip the only one left standing, pulling him in, the toes of his boots dragging on the ground. He squeezes the soft flesh of his neck, the man choking as he looks up with wide, terrified eyes.

“What’s the code?” He asks in his distorted voice, nodding to the hatch beside them. 

The man says nothing. He can’t speak. He can’t even breath.

Kylo switches off his lightsaber, releasing the man, and immediately hovers a hand over his head to both fix him in place and rifle through his mind. The moment he finds what he needs, he brushes past him to the hatch, not bothering to kill him.

He hears footsteps running away as he kneels and flips open the key pad. He enters the code, then hears a low clang before the hatch creaks slowly open. He stands and walks to the front, barreling down the steps the moment he can fit through the opening.

He descends down the dimly lit staircase, the hatch closing behind him.

He’s getting closer. He can sense her presence, drawn to it by instinct.

He arrives into a large supply room of dry, cracked earth, the annals of several wide tunnels stretching out in all directions.

The mines are dark but not pitch black, small, yellow lights affixed to the ceiling every few meters or so. They appear hollow, empty. He hears nothing, senses nothing.

Only Rey.

Kylo unclicks his mask, bringing it up and overhead. He glances around, then tucks it behind a pile of equipment.

He closes his eyes, concentrating.

A second later, they snap open.

He strides briskly towards the tunnel just ahead.

He needs to hurry. It’s only a matter of time before the battle turns south for Blood Dawn, before their forces start pouring into the mines, desperately running from the fray.

He takes in his surroundings as he goes, creating a map in his mind. He’ll need to find his way back without the benefit of a navigational device. Damn cortosis, interfering with their scanners…

He walks swiftly, Rey’s presence growing stronger the further her gets. He concentrates on it, desperately seeking a hint, any sign of what state she might be in.

He knows she’s injured. But is she unconscious? Disabled? He tries to keep his mind from descending to dark places, considering the worst scenarios…

But he can’t fight his nature.

He turns with the sharp curve of the tunnel and notices a thick metal door to the right, built into the earth.

The door is wide open. He glances in as he passes, catching sight of a few ragged mats and pillows scattered along a long, dark space.  

Slave quarters, obviously. But where are the slaves…?

He picks up his pace, almost to a run.

She’s close now. _Very_ close. Any second—

“Ben!”

He halts, whipping towards the sound of her voice. He peers down another tunnel, this one much darker, no lights affixed along the ceiling. He steps into it carefully, his senses heightened.

“Ben!”

He hears footsteps approach quickly from the darkness.

Rey emerges into light, looking like a tattered mess. Her clothes are grimy and ripped up, holes in her pants and shirt, large enough for him to see that her midsection is wrapped tightly with a rudimentary bandage. Her hair is down, tangled and matted, and she’s covered in dirt.

Yet, she approaches with bright eyes and a smile.

“Ben!” She greets, running up to give him a hug.

He lets out a long exhale, all the fear and worry leaving his body as he wraps his arms around her. He holds her for a moment, then pulls back for a better look, focusing on the injury at her stomach.

“I thought you might show up, but I wasn’t sure how hands on you are with these things,” she starts excitedly. “Then I felt you arrive, and I _knew_ things were about to get harry. What are you doing down here?” She knits her eyebrows.

Kylo stares at her, struggling to adapt to the situation. He’s spent so much time imagining the worst, he wasn’t at all prepared for this, for finding her so energetic, downright _upbeat_.

“Rey…” He grunts. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

She jerks back.

“ _What?_ ” She scrunches her face. “Why?”

He gapes at her.

“Do you not hear that?” He points to the ceiling.

Rey glances up, the sound of explosions and heavy thuds vaguely audible through the earth.

“There’s a war going on up there, and it’s only a matter of time before it makes its way down _here_.” He points to the floor emphatically.

“Yeah, I know.” Rey shrugs. “In fact, we should walk and talk. Come on.” She brushes past him to the main tunnel, gesturing for him to follow.

He turns, confounded by her nonchalance.

_Where does she think she’s going?_

“Rey—” He steps after her.

“I’ve gotta say, Ben,” she cuts him off as she makes her way down the tunnel. “Your timing really _could not_ have been more perfect.” She glances back, brown eyes crinkled into a smile. “I was planning the escape for today, but I was only going to take a handful. Blood Dawn keeps this place locked tight.”

“Rey, where are you going?”

“But then…” She ignores him. “ _Out of nowhere_ , your troops showed up at dawn, completely catching everyone by surprise.” She turns sharply into a dark, narrow tunnel, and he turns with her, hunching as the ceiling gets lower.

“Within the hour, the mines were practically empty, all the overseers up top.” She makes her way easily through the darkness. He can vaguely make out her form, one hand touching the wall as she goes.

“So, I just decided to take advantage of the opportunity.” She bursts forward, and he picks up his pace. “You wouldn’t _believe_ it. I’ve been sneaking people out all morning. _Hundreds_. It’s been incredible. Easiest rescue I’ve done so far.” She emerges into a wide tunnel, pausing catch her bearings before turning right.

“Wait a minute…” He trails after her. “There’s only one entrance to the mines.”

Rey scoffs.

“There’s always another way, Ben,” she assures confidently. “ _Always_. Even in a place like this.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Our recon teams scoured the terrain here for weeks.” He moves just next to her. “There’s no other way into these mines. They’re too deep, too heavily guarded.”

“Well, they’re not guarded now,” she says matter-of-factly. “And the northwest corner is much closer to the surface. Maybe you need better recon teams.” She glances at him, a glint in her eye.  

“ _Rey_.” He grabs her arm and she halts, looking up in surprise.

“You need to get out of here.” He pulls in the other direction. “Come on.”

“ _What?_ ” She yanks her arm away. “Ben, no. I’ve got two more groups to get out of here. Besides, it will be safer to go out my way.” She turns and starts down the tunnel again.

“ _Rey_.” He follows close behind. “You need to get out of here. _Now_. There’s damn war going on upstairs and it’s coming this way _any minute_.”

“I’m aware,” she says absently, picking up her pace. “That’s why I’ve got to get the last of the rescues and take them to the northwest corner. I made an opening not far from the mountain. Everyone will be safe there.”  

“Rey, you’ve done enough for one day,” he insists. “The slaves will be fine. I’ll see to that.”

“ _Ben_.” She shoots him a patronizing look. “Don’t you know anything about Blood Dawn? They’ll kill all of the slaves once the battle goes south, just out of spite. Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t try to kill them this morning or bring them upstairs to use in the battle. It’s _exactly_ the kind of thing they would do.”

He pushes out an exhale, twitching.

“Rey, you are _clearly_ injured.” He grabs her arm again, gripping tightly.

“Ben, I’m fine.” She tries to yank her arm free. “It’s nothing.”

He glances at the cloth wrapped around her stomach.

“That doesn’t look like nothing.” He nods to her midsection.

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s just a flesh wound, Ben.” She shakes her head dismissively. “No organ damage. The blade barely went in.”

He cocks his head, bearing down with cold eyes.

 _A flesh wound?_ Her vitals wouldn’t have dropped so severely because of a _flesh wound_ …

“Rey…” He intones darkly, still gripping her arm.

“ _Ben._ ” She struggles against his hold. “Let go. _Now._ ”

He hardens his jaw.

They glare at one another for a moment.

Finally, he loosens his grip and she jerks away, jutting her chin up. She turns, resuming her swift pace down the tunnel.

“Not that it’s any of your _business_ ,” she calls back at him. “But I had to take a hit or else I’d blow my cover. I’ve been posing as a slave here, and unfortunately, Blood Dawn has a penchant for dipping their blades in poison.”

“ _What!?_ ” He rages after her. “Rey, _you’re poisoned?!_ ”

“Oh, calm down, won’t you? I’m fine.” She waves a hand. “Trust me. Blood Dawn wouldn’t do permanent damage their _property_.” She spits out this last word. “Last night was rough, but it’s out of my system now, and I’m no worse for the wear.”   

Kylo grits his teeth.

 _Unbelievable_.

She gets poisoned, and she calls it a _flesh wound?_

“Rey.” He follows closely, nearing the end of his rope. “You _have got_ to stop being so careless. Why the hell does the Resistance have you doing this foolishness in the first place?”

She instantly whips around, and he barely halts before crashing into her.

“ _This_ …” She sticks a finger in his face, “is _my_ project, Ben. I run this initiative. I built a team that does slave outreach. We help people devoted to stopping slavery in the galaxy. And most of the time, that means slave rescues, like _this one_.”

“So, why are you alone?” He bites. “Where the hell is your team?”

She drops her shoulders.

“Things…” She shifts a little. “Don’t always go according to plan, ok? I was posing as a slave on one planet, and got randomly sold to Blood Dawn. It happens.” She shrugs. “But I’ve learned to just go with it, go where the opportunity leads.” She turns as she finishes, continuing down the tunnel.

He watches her walk away, gaping. He starts after her the second he regains his senses.

“Are you telling me…” He stomps up beside her. “That _no one_ knows you’re here?”

He stares down, but she doesn’t look up, eyes fixed forward as she moves with brisk strides.

“ _REY!_ ” He roars. “ _Are_ _you_ _insane?!_ _How do you expect to get yourself off this rock, much less anyone else?_ ”

“This is a mining outfit, Ben.” She drips with condescension. “There are transports all over. Big ones. Lots of empty space. Ripe for stealing.”

“ _By yourself?_ ” He challenges. “ _From one of the most dangerous gangs in the_ _galaxy?_ ” He grips her arm, jerking her to an abrupt halt.

“Rey, listen to me. _Your_ _recklessness—_ ”

“ _No_.” She whips around. “ _You_ listen.” Her eyes are fierce yet cold. “First off, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a _long_ time. Secondly…” She steps in, her expression darkening.

“If you grab me again, you’re going to lose a hand.”

Her voice is even, more matter-of-fact than threatening, yet all the more menacing for it.

And there, just for just a second, just for the briefest flash, he sees it, a little of himself in her eyes, reflected back at him.

He releases her slowly.

She stares up at him, calm and steady.

Then, she lets out a sigh. She crosses her arms, glancing to the ceiling.

“How about this?” She looks back at him. “How about you go upstairs and do what you do, and I’ll stay down here and do what I do.” She starts to back away. “Meet up afterwards, maybe?” She shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes. 

She turns, continuing down the tunnel.  

He clenches his fists, _seriously_ considering it as he watches her go.

He could just charge up behind her and knock her unconscious.

That won’t go over well. But it would be for her own good…

He steps forward, but immediately stops. 

Rey disappears around a dimly lit curve, not looking back.

He stands for a moment, his jaw twitching.

Then, he turns reluctantly. He begins down the tunnel, tense and churning with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides.

 _A flesh wound_ , she says. _Poison_. Surrounded by ruthless cutthroats. And not a _single damn person_ in the Resistance knows she’s here.

It’s _stupidly_ reckless.

He sucks in his breath.

There’ve been times when he regrets it, regrets putting that tracker in her body, _dreading_ the thought of what would happen if she ever finds out…

And then there are times like right now.

If not for that tracker, how the hell would anyone have the _slightest clue_ where she is, what state she’s in?

Tracker or no tracker, she’s going to get herself killed one day. How can she not? Putting herself up against such odds, letting herself be shipped away to some distant planet by the _worst_ gang in the galaxy, locked inside mines infamous for being sealed tight.

He charges down the tunnel, _fuming_ , infuriated by her carelessness, the way she acts like she’s invincible.

But beneath the rage is the fear, the terrifying reality, the inevitable outcome of such brash behavior.

It will happen. Sooner or later.

One day, her luck will run out…

He recoils, pushing the thought aside to focus on the present, what he can do _now_. He looks up and around, catching his bearings. He let himself get turned around in here…

Fortunately, the main tunnels are obvious, the ones with the lights affixed to the ceiling, and based on what he saw when he entered, they all lead to the same place.

The least he can do is go back there, keep Blood Dawn from getting too far into the mines, give Rey some time to finish up her business. 

He moves briskly, focusing on his surroundings. 

It strikes him how strange it is that it hasn’t happened already, that by all appearances, not a _single_ member of Blood Dawn is down here. There are always a few cowards, taking the first opportunity to hide rather than fight.

Then again, Blood Dawn is known for their ferocity. Maybe they live up to their reputation. Maybe no one in Blood Dawn ever runs from a fight.

He twitches, thinking, growing more unsettled as he does. He remembers what Rey said about being surprised Blood Dawn didn’t try to use the slaves in battle…

It’s exactly what they expected them to do. They were fully prepared for a repeat of Delphon, for Blood Dawn to use the slaves to make a perimeter around the compound. It’s why they spent so much time looking for a back way into the mines.

He was shocked when he arrived to find the area around headquarters wide open, all of slaves apparently locked underground.

So strange…

Surely, Blood Dawn knows they have no hope of winning. They know how outmatched they are, how quickly the First Order took out the Merdos Syndicate, Zidon, Black Hole…

So why wouldn’t they use every resource available to them? Why wouldn’t they use the slaves to try to slow their progress?

It just doesn’t make sense…  

He looks up as he mulls over these things, trying to put himself in Blood Dawn’s perspective.

_What could they be thinking…?_

Suddenly, he catches sight of something, a small red flash, dim but noticeable, coming from behind one of the lights on the ceiling. He stops just under it, peering up curiously. He shoves the toe of his boot into the earthy wall of the tunnel, hoisting himself up to get a closer look.

 

What is that…?

He pulls himself further, searching for the source of the red flash.

The moment he sees it, he freezes. He tries to breathe but finds he can’t, like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

For a second, he just hangs, his boot tucked in the side of the tunnel, his hand gripping the light.

Then, he drops down, racing to the next light on the ceiling.

There… another red flash, just barely visible.

He races to the next one.

There too.

He races to the next one.

It’s all of them… All of the lights… 

They’re hiding explosives.

“REY!” He shouts, sprinting full speed.

“ _REY!_ ” His heart beats wildly, thumping out of his chest.

“ _REY!_ ” He hollers so loudly his voice reverberates down the tunnel.

It seems like a damn lifetime before he sees her, sees her turned with knitted eyebrows, his own urgency coursing through her the closer he gets.

“Ben, why are you—”

“They’ve rigged the mines to blow.” He halts dead in front of her.

“ _What?_ ” She jerks back.

“ _The lights_ , Rey.” He points to the ceiling. “Look behind the lights.”

She looks up and around, a low burning panic in her gut. She runs a few feet down the tunnel, leaping into crevices in the wall and crawling to one of the lights affixed to the ceiling. She doesn’t examine it for long before he feels it hit her.

 Sheer terror.

“No…” She drops to the ground, her face white.

“ _Go_ _now_.” He commands. “Your way. To the mountains. I’ll find you there.” He turns, running the opposite direction.

“Wait!” She races after him. “Where are you going? _”_

“Go! _Now!_ ” He yells without slowing down.

“But what about you?”

“I have to _do_ something.” He skids around a sharp curve. “I have to stop this.”

“ _WHAT!?_ ” Rey shrieks. “Ben, you’ve got to get out of here. _Everyone_ does!”

“Rey, _a fifth_ of the galaxy’s cortosis is in _these mines_.”

“ _Cortosis!?_ ” She breaks into a full-on sprint. “ _CORTOSIS!?_ You’re risking your life for _stupid cortosis_!?” She comes up fast, grabbing him and jerking back. “And you think _I’m_ reckless!?”

“Rey, just go!” He pries her away, pushing in the other direction. “ ** _Go!_** ” He sprints down the tunnel.

“No! Ben!” She bursts after him. “Cortosis doesn’t matter. _Your life_ matters. The lives of your troops. The slaves.” She halts with a fresh pang of terror.

He stops, twisting around.

“Ben!” She runs up to him, white with panic. “You have to help me. _Please!_ There are two more groups locked down here, and I can’t get them both.”

“ _What!?_ ” He jerks back. “No! There’s no time for that.”

She sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring.

“You have time to hunt for a detonator but no time to get people to safety?” She hisses. “These mines, _this entire compound_ , could blow at any minute!”

“Rey—”

“ _NO!_ ”

He’s shocked when she Force-slams him against the wall.

“You have _no idea_ what you’re dealing with, whether you could even stop this at all.” She points at him. “But you _can_ get people out of here. _You’re_ the Supreme Leader. _You_ decide what matters.” She steps forward, eyes like lasers. “So, what is it? What does the First Order care about more? Cortosis or _people?_ ” She spits out the question in challenge.

He stares at her, panting, his body wracked with urgency, burning to _just go_ , just push her away and _run_.

But he can’t break his gaze from those sharp eyes, a desperate hope lurking under the ferocity. She holds in her breath, waiting for his decision…  

Kylo grits his teeth.

_Damn it._

He drops his shoulders, covering his eyes before slicking his palm over his face with a growl.

Rey exhales in relief.

“Come on.” She nods in the opposite direction, then races down the tunnel.

He follows, lagging behind.

_Shit._

“You’ll have to use the Force to open the door, but the lock’s not complicated.”

_Shit, shit, shit!_

“I’ll go north, you go west. I’ll show you where.”

_SHIT!_

“When you open the door, tell them ‘nbutu.’ It means follow.” They race around a sharp curve, and Rey skids, nearly crashing into the wall.

“And ‘kasha’ means hurry.” They shoot down a long stretch, boots pumping against the ground.

“Then find me. Just sense me out, like you did when you came down here.” Rey grinds to halt, so abruptly she briefly loses balance.

“There.” She points down a dark, narrow tunnel. “That empties out into the west line. Turn right and run until you see a door. Trust me, it’ll be obvious.” She gives him a hard shove before turning and racing down the tunnel.

“ _Hurry!_ ” She calls without looking back.   

He sighs, stepping forward. It’s nearly pitch black, the only light coming from the tunnel behind him. He moves briskly, snatching the comm from his belt the moment Rey’s footsteps fade.

“ _Code red,”_ he barks. “Message all active units on Apatros. There’s a bomb on site. Find that detonator!” He picks up his pace, sensing his way through the darkness.

They have time…

Some time.

Blood Dawn is certainly waiting until they’ve drawn all their troops into the base. How long has it been since the battle began…?

“Right away, sir!” A voice answers faintly through heavy static.

Fifteen minutes minimum, probably more. The troops are halfway into the compound by now, possibly further. There’s no way to know for sure…

The red flashes are an indicator. It means someone’s armed the explosives. It wasn’t like that when he first came into the mines.

If he could just _get up there_ , he could sense it. He _knows_ he could. Sense whoever has the detonator, the sick glee of some scum waiting for the signal.

Assuming the explosives are rigged to a detonator. It’s possible Blood Dawn put them on a timer to avoid human error.

Or what if _a droid_ has the detonator?

He sees faint light ahead, the main tunnel coming into view. He races towards it, furiously assessing the situation.

There’s so much guessing, so much he doesn’t know…

He bursts into the tunnel and halts, looking right, then left.

If he goes left, he can make it back to the entrance in five minutes.

Probably.

He jerks back, jarred by the crackle of the comm.

“Message from General Petrov,” a voice declares urgently. “He’s sending in an explosives team. Is there any information on the bomb’s location?”

Kylo looks up and around at the lights, the red flashing behind them.

They’ve sped up… What were once slow, methodical flashes are now a quick beats of red.

He pushes out an exhale like fumes.

“It’s too late for that,” he growls, turning right. “Tell him to pull the troops out, pull _everyone_ out. Get them out of the compound and off the mines. _Now_.” He reattaches the comm, breaking into a full-on sprint.

_DAMN IT!_

“Yes, sir.”

He faintly hears the response as he races down the tunnel. He looks from side to side, searching for a door, raging inwardly all the while.

He _knew_ this was coming.

The gangs are catching on, starting to prepare, to _fight back_ in whatever measly way they can, destroying their own mines just so the First Order can’t have them.

_BASTARDS!_

_This_ …

This is the beginning of a trend. Others will follow Blood Dawn’s example. They’ll prepare for self-destruction in _anticipation_ of invasion, ready to blow themselves to hell and all their resources with them.

It’s going to be a damn nightmare…

Kylo’s thoughts grind to a halt.

There’s a thick metal door just ahead, built into the wall at a sharp curve of the tunnel.

He sprints forward, dropping to his knees and sliding across the cracked earth just before the door. He quickly examines it, then extends an open palm to the lock, closing his eyes.

Half a minute later, he hears a click. 

He shoots to his feet and swings the door open.

Light pours into a large, misshapen room, clearly carved from what was once a tunnel. It’s packed with people, thin, wiry sacks of skin looking up with hollow eyes. There are at least fifty, probably more, mostly adults but some children.

They stare at him, scared and confused.

Shit.

What was it Rey said…?

“Nbutu!” He declares finally.

Some of the slaves sit up, surprised. They look at one another, uncertain.

“Nbutu!” Kylo backs away, gesturing urgently down the tunnel.

The slaves just stare, guarded.

“Kasha!” He shouts, slapping his hands together.

He turns and starts walking down the tunnel, closing his eyes and reaching out, reaching for Rey.

He hears footsteps pour out of the room behind him, voices murmuring in another language.

His eyes snap open.

“Nbutu! Kasha!” He sprints forward without looking back.

The herd begins to follow, slow at first but soon a stampede of bare feet slapping the ground.

He barrels down the tunnel at full speed, through straight shots, skidding around curves, focusing on Rey all the while, her presence drawing closer.

He hopes to hell she’s already out of here.

She should be. She went north, and that’s where she said the opening would be, the northwest corner.

He pivots left into a dark tunnel, pitch black. He runs through the darkness, the slaves following close behind, jabbering urgently now, a low hum filling the narrow space.  

They emerge into another main tunnel, Kylo immediately racing right. He glances at the lights.

The flashing is now a frenzied blur of red.

“Kasha, Kasha, Kasha!”

He sprints down the tunnel, his heart bursting from chest. He hears crying and yelling, a wave of fear cascading from behind, the slaves trying desperately to keep up.   

He pants heavily, urgency coursing through him like fire. He runs until he reaches a dead end, turning left without skipping a beat, the stampede following on his heels.

He’s close now.

He feels Rey’s presence growing stronger.

He flies around a sharp corner and is met by _actual sunlight_ pouring from an opening several meters ahead. It’s elevated, at the top of a steep slope. It appears small at first but larger as he gets close, about the size of a landspeeder.

He stops dead at the bottom of the slope and turns back.

“Kasha, Kasha, Kasha!” He points to the opening.

The slaves begin crawling up the slope in a tangled mass, falling all over each other. He pushes some of them back, trying to stagger them, keep them from trampling one another.   

They move swiftly if awkwardly to the opening. Soon, he hears cries of joy just outside.

It occurs to him that it’s been years since some of these people have seen sunlight… 

Then it happens. A loud boom, and the earth begins to tremble.

Kylo snaps to the lights.

But the explosives don’t go off. It must be happening in a wave, starting and the center and moving outwards.

The slaves are screaming now, pushing furiously past him, stampeding up the slope in chaos. The tunnel is quaking, chunks of earth crashing from above, the boom of explosions drawing closer. He pushes the last of the pack up the slope, then turns to join them.

But he stops, catching a faint cry in the distance.

He whips around, racing towards the source of the noise, a vague form several feet back. It takes shape as he nears, a young boy crawling on the ground, dragging an injured leg behind him.

Kylo sweeps him up in one motion and sprints towards the opening, drawing the boy into his chest to shield him from debris crashing down all around. The quaking is violent now, a deep rumble filling the air.  Kylo stumbles up the slope, explosive blasts just behind him, getting closer and closer.

He groans as something heavy lands on his head. He grits his teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain as he leaps out of the opening, racing away from the mines, the crowd of slaves running desperately towards the mountainside ahead.

He runs and runs and runs, weaving through the crowd, gasping, panting, not slowing down until he feels the earth stop shaking and the rumble die away.

Finally, he staggers, breathing heavily, desperate for oxygen. He’s dripping with sweat, dark locks stuck to his skin, a dull ache at the back of his head. He stands, dazed, hardly aware of his body, the crying boy in his arms. He barely notices when a shrieking woman runs up to him, extending her arms towards the boy.

Kylo hands him over without thinking.

She takes him eagerly, pulling him to her chest and rocking him as he cries. She kisses the boy’s forehead, then looks up, tears streaming down her face, saying something Kylo doesn’t understand.

He just nods, dazed.

She bows deeply, repeating something over and over as she backs away.

Kylo just stares, then turns, searching the crowd for Rey.

She’s alive. He would feel it if she weren’t. But where is she…? 

“Ben!”

As if on cue, he hears her calling from the mountainside.

He snaps towards her voice, spotting her quickly. She’s making her way down a rough, curved path, stumbling over a mass of tannish rocks before hitting the dry earth and running towards him.  

He begins weaving through the crowd and she does the same, angling around the slaves to race towards him and leap into his arms, wrapping her legs around him.

“Ben!” She hugs him tightly. “I was so worried! We barely got to the mountain before I heard the explosion.”

“It’s ok.” He wraps his arms around her. “I’m ok. Everyone’s ok.” He lets out a long exhale, his urgency melting away as he closes his eyes and holds her close.

She buries her face in his shoulder, tightening her arms around his neck.

They lose themselves in the embrace, the relief, the tangible knowledge that they’re both alive and whole and together, _actually_ together, for once in the same place at the same time.

He rocks her gently, surrendering to the peace of the moment, the shared warmth, the shared love, all the more precious after the harsh reminder of their mortality, how easy it would be to lose it all.

She nuzzles his neck, running her fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, she gasps, pulling back.  

“Ben, you’re bleeding.” She drops to the ground. “Your head.”

He reaches back to the dull ache, a sticky coat of blood in his hair.

“It’s fine.” He shakes his head but notices his vision is a bit blurry.

“Ben…” She admonishes, reaching up to pull his head down. “You could have a concussion.” She angles to the side, rising to her toes to get a better look. 

“Rey, I’ll be fine,” he assures, reaching for her wrists and pulling them away. “I’ll run by a medical bay later.”

She narrows her eyes.

“It should probably be sooner.”

He grunts, straightening and looking away.  

That’s when he notices it.

The slaves.

They’re behaving oddly. Most of them are kneeling, some pressing their hands together like in prayer. They’re murmuring something, almost in unison. They seem to be saying the same thing, over and over again.

Kylo looks around with knitted eyebrows, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. He glances at Rey.

She’s watching the slaves too, tilting her head as she listens closely.

“What are they saying?” He asks.

She presses her lips together.

“I think…” She starts slowly. After a moment, she looks up, a subtle smile on her lips. “I think they’re saying, ‘Blessed is the savior.’”

His eyebrows shoot up. He looks around again, turning to get a better look at the scene.

They’re at the center of the crowd, the only people standing, smoke and sand from the explosion still filling the air, just meters from the mangled, sunken earth where the mines once were.

But the slaves don’t seem to notice.

They’re bowing or looking up through squinted eyes, continuing their chanting, low but impassioned, almost reverent. A woman bowing to the right reaches out to touch his boot, crying softly.  

Kylo watches, dumbfounded. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He’s never been in a situation like this, never the center of so much… gratitude. He can feel it emanating from them in a powerful wave, how thankful they are to be alive, to be free.

It feels dissonant to be the recipient of this kind of admiration, least of all because he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s not their savior. Rey is.

In an instant, the moment is gone, everyone’s eyes turning to the sky at the sound of ships overhead.

Kylo’s command shuttle and two transports fly in formation, slowing as they pass and curving back to land in open spots around the crowd.

The slaves begin to stand, squinting, shading their eyes from the sun as they watch the loading ramps descend, touching down on the dry, cracked earth.

Stormtroopers pour out of the transports in rows, officers immediately directing them to the edges of the ruins that were once the mines. Technicians follow close behind, unloading what looks like some kind of mining equipment.

A black-clad lieutenant barrels down the ramp of the command shuttle, searching the crowd, eyes wide and eager. He brightens the instant he catches sight of Kylo, starting briskly towards him.

“Sir!” He calls out as he awkwardly makes his way through the crowd, glancing at the slaves with disdain. 

“Sir!” He runs up and halts before him, snapping to attention. “We just received a message from Colonel Reza. He’s organizing extraction teams to clean up this mess, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow so for now our troops—”

“No,” Kylo interrupts. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we need get these people to shelter.” He gestures to the slaves. “Order the troops to set up an operational camp. We need bedding, food, and medical personnel.”

The lieutenant raises his eyebrows, surprised, but soon nods, pulling a data pad from his belt.

“Straight away, sir.” He switches on the pad. “Is this all of them?”

“No.” Kylo glances at Rey.

He’s surprised to find her looking up with a strange kind of glimmer, almost like she’s proud.

“How many are in the mountain?” He tilts his head, trying to read her.

Yes, that’s definitely pride.

And admiration.

“Nearly a thousand.” She turns to the lieutenant. “I’ll show you the way.” She reaches for his shoulder, directing him to the mountain. “Most of them speak Dashi, but some speak Basic,” she debriefs him as they walk through the crowd.

Her voice fades as they move away but Kylo watches. She gestures emphatically and the lieutenant nods, entering a note into his pad.

He can’t stop a smile from teasing his lips.

She’s a natural, of course. She slips right into leadership without even realizing it.

It is _so satisfying_ to see her like this, in this context, surrounded by First Order officers and troops, taking charge, confidently managing the situation. It’s just the smallest sliver of his future, everything he wants, the way things will be when she accepts her destiny, ascends to the position she was _meant_ for, to rule at his side.

He clasps his hands behind him, moving slowly towards Rey and the lieutenant, watching and smiling.

“It’s best if their quarters are a bit dark,” he hears her telling him as he gets closer. “They’re not used to the light. They need some time to adjust.”

The lieutenant nods, entering another note in his pad. Several units of Stormtroopers approach, a sergeant with a red pauldron at the lead. They halt at attention a few feet from the lieutenant, and he turns, walking away from Rey to speak to the sergeant.

Kylo steps next to her and she looks up, eyes sharp with focus.

“So, what will you do?” She gestures towards the slaves. “Where will you take them?”

“We’ll do what we did on Delphon.” He shrugs. “Shelter them. Feed them. Give them medical care and send them home. Or wherever they want to go.”

Rey’s lips turn up, that glimmer of admiration returning to her eyes.

He looks down, enjoying the moment, what it feels like to have her approval _for once_.

It’s not just approval he senses. It’s a deep kind of gratitude, much like what he felt from the slaves. But this time, it’s infinitely more meaningful because…

It’s _her_.

“We’re ready when you are!”

Rey and Kylo snap out of their trance at the sound of the lieutenant’s voice.

“Lead the way!”

Rey looks over and nods, then glances at Kylo. She gives him a smile, but he catches a flash in her eyes, feels it ripple inside her, a pang of sadness.

And his heart drops.

He knows what that means.

She doesn’t plan on coming back.

She starts to move to the lieutenant but without thinking, Kylo grabs her hand.

She looks up, surprised as he pulls her in front of him.

“ _Stay_.” He squeezes her hand, his voice just above a whisper.

She doesn’t say anything. She only gulps, brown eyes wide and full of conflict, everything she feels for him grating against a deeply held conviction, a sureness of spirit.  

“ _Stay_ ,” he repeats, dark eyes pleading.

She takes a sharp breath, a twist in her heart. She parts her lips but says nothing.  

“ _Stay_ ,” he pleads a final time, bringing a hand to her cheek.

She looks surprised, glancing towards the lieutenant, self-conscious, but he never takes his eyes off her.

“Stay and help,” he insists softly. “Help us take care of these people. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

She gulps again, at a loss.

But soon, he feels her well with resolve.

She takes a slow breath, the longing in her eyes receding, replaced by quiet determination. She tilts her head, reaching up to cup his face with a hand.

“You’re doing a good thing here today.”  She strokes his cheek with a thumb. “But I don’t belong here.” She shakes her head. “I don’t belong with the First Order.” She slips her hand from his face, backing away.

“Rey.” He closes his eyes.  

“No.” She steps back, his hand falling from her face. “No.”

He pushes out an exhale, opening his eyes to find Rey just out of reach, her heart heavy.

She stares at him a moment, her gaze gentle but firm.

Then, she moves away, walking towards the lieutenant in front of a unit of Stormtroopers.

Kylo follows her with his eyes, noticing the troopers immediately look down, shifting awkwardly.

Rey begins to lead them up the mountainside, climbing up the path swiftly and purposefully, not looking back.

But he senses how much she wants to.

Part of him wants to follow her, to try again, convince her to stay.

But another part holds him back. The part that knows her, that knows _exactly_ what the result of that will be.

_So. Damn. Stubborn._

He hardens his jaw, a familiar weight bearing down on him, that crushing desire, how much he wants her, how much she wants him, how _infuriating_ it is that she keeps fighting this, making _both of them_ miserable.

He wants this so much, to start their future together, to start building their empire, one that will last.

 _What the hell is it going to take?_ What does he have to do for her to _finally_ recognize the truth, the truth of the bond, their destiny?

He jerks back, jarred by the crackle of his comm.

“Message from General Petrov,” a voice announces from the other end. “Assault units have cleared out the Blood Dawn scum at the perimeter.”

He sighs heavily, reaching for the comm.

“How many of our forces did we lose?” He asks, rubbing his jaw.

“We’re still working on an estimate,” the voice responds. “But thanks to your warning, it seems a majority were able to make it out of the compound before the explosion.”

Kylo nods, bringing the comm back to his lips.

“Tell the general I’ll arrive shortly.” He begins walking to the command shuttle, reattaching the comm. He looks around as he goes, watching the troopers help the slaves onto the transports. They’re exhausted, squinting in the sunlight, but he senses their excitement, their utter joy.

And he feels a rush of satisfaction.

He shouldn’t. He should be _furious_.

 _A fifth_ of the galaxy’s cortosis buried in a heaping mass. Who knows how much of it is corrupted? Blood Dawn and the threat of a new trend of self-destruction, what this means for his ambitions to control _all_ of the galaxy’s most valuable resources.

Yet despite the trouble ahead, everything he’s lost…

Somehow, today still feels like a victory.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be October 20th. I apologize for the delay. Thank you for your patience!


	26. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey attends a meeting of Resistance leaders and is unexpectedly confronted with an uncomfortable subject

“ _Eighty-seven_.”

Admiral Madani taps the meeting table twice for emphasis. Tendrils of gray hair fall over her face as she leans forward, her gaze fiery with warning. She scans the room methodically, making eye contact with every Resistance leader gathered around the table.

“Eighty-seven systems in barely over _a year_.” The older woman looks directly at Rey as she articulates the last words. “What were once independent or government-owned mining operations are now the property of the First Order, by negotiation or by force.” She continues to scan the room, her jaw hardened in muted fury.

“This isn’t about building dreadnoughts and star destroyers. This isn’t about finishing Starkiller II.” The admiral sits back, shaking her head. “ _Oh no_. What we’re seeing here is nothing less than a systematic attempt to control _all_ the precious resources throughout the galaxy.”

A Mon Calamari man next to the General immediately scoffs, or at least Rey thinks it’s a scoff. It sounds more like a gurgle…

“Nonsense,” he says dismissively, smacking his fish-like lips together. “Even the Empire never attempted such a thing. And they were ten times the size of the First Order.”

“You do realize…” Another admiral leans forward now, a middle-aged man with gray flecks in his dark hair. “That the First Order is catching up, don’t you? They’ve tripled in size. Their recruitment’s exploded in the last three months alone, and according to our intel, most of those numbers are being funneled into mining teams.” He casts a glance over to Madani, and she nods, grateful for the support.

“Recruitment numbers aside, it’s still not feasible.” A young colonel shakes her head, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “There are too many systems in the galaxy. There’s no way the First Order can control the resources on _all_ of them. It’s just not possible.”

“Ok, first of all…” Poe suddenly sits up from his slouched position. “They don’t have to control _all_ the resources, just the most valuable ones. That’ll be enough to have the galaxy by the balls. But more importantly, think about _this_.” He leans into the meeting table, his eyes fixed on the colonel across from him.

“Right now, the First Order’s playing nice. They’re negotiating. They’re paying for the resources and then some— commissioning building projects, opening up new trade routes. Even when they do take mines by force, they spin it as a kind of law enforcement, _rescuing_ the galaxy from the Outer Rim gangs,” he finishes with an air of sarcasm.

“But what do you think’s gonna happen once they finish Starkiller II, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “How do you think their _negotiations_ will go then?” He looks around the table, beckoning someone to supply the obvious answer.

A crushing silence descends over the room as the Resistance leaders cast their gaze downwards, growing grim and unsettled. Rey joins them, looking intently at her hands clasped in her lap.

“ _Trust me_.” Poe sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Their progress right now will look slow by comparison. They won’t need to negotiate anymore. All they’ll have to do is show up and give systems a choice— hand over your resources or get blasted into space.” Admiral Madani nods in agreement.

“ _Exactly._ ” Madani turns to the General at the head of the table. “If you think about Starkiller, how they can use it to bully systems into giving them what they want, it’s really not that far-fetched. What we’re seeing now could just be the beginning of a large-scale effort to control the galaxy’s economy.”

The General listens carefully, sitting back in her chair, her eyes sharp with thought. She’s been quiet for most of the meeting, though this isn’t unusual.

Rey’s noticed this about the General. She spends more time listening than she does talking.

“Admiral Patel,” the General finally speaks, nodding to the middle-aged man across from her. “Do you have anything new to report on Starkiller II’s progress?”

“Not really.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “From what we can tell, construction is essentially complete. And yet…” His eyebrows furrow as his voice trails off. “The weapon isn’t active yet. We would know if it were. They must be missing _something_.”

“It’s kyber.” Rey speaks without thinking, but immediately catches herself, looking around the table self-consciously. She’s met by a row of knitted eyebrows.

“It must be, right?” She sounds more tentative now. “I mean the first Starkiller was built on a kyber-rich planet for a reason, was it not?”

“Dear, the weapon is powered by quintessence, not kyber.” A tall, pale-skinned admiral corrects her, his voice tinged with condescension.

Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, then starts to shake his head.

“That doesn’t mean she’s wrong.” He looks over to Rey. “The Death Star ran on kyber. It’s not a stretch to assume the weapon on Starkiller needs kyber in some way. Maybe not the same way, but…” He brings a hand to rub his jaw as he mulls over this prospect.

“If she’s right, that’s good news,” the Mon Calamari man announces, looking at the General next to him. “It means we have time. There’s precious little kyber left in the galaxy. It could take years before the First Order gets what they need.”

“Wait a minute,” Poe sputters. “This is all conjecture. And even if it’s not, the First Order could happen upon a massive trove of kyber _tomorrow_ for all we know. We can’t wait around hoping the First Order’s hit a snag. We’ve got to act _now_.” He shoots forward in his chair, his eyes intense with urgency.

“It’s time for us to take the offense.” He twists towards the General. “We’re _ready_. Our numbers are picking up, thanks to Rey.” He gestures towards her. “And as long as Starkiller isn’t active, the First Order’s at a disadvantage. _Now_ is the time to strike. _Before_ another Hosnian Prime, _not after_.”

The General gazes at Poe evenly, taking a few moments to process. Finally, she leans forward, clasping her hands together on the table.

“Poe,” she begins in her signature tone, firm yet gentle. “I agree we need to destroy the weapon before it becomes operational.” She tilts her head in concession. “But we can’t forget that we’re fighting a war against the First Order, not Starkiller II. Whatever we destroy can be rebuilt.”

“She’s right,” Admiral Madani says with a heavy sigh, looking over at Poe. “If we go after Starkiller now, the First Order will snuff us out, just like they did before. Then they’ll turn around and build another Starkiller.” Poe drops his shoulders and sits back in his chair.

“So, what?” He shrugs, sounding exasperated. “What do we do? Just leave Starkiller alone because they could build another one?”

“Of course not.” Admiral Patel shoots Poe an admonishing look. “But we need to wait for the right time, when the First Order is weak and destabilized, in a poor position to bounce back.” Several Resistance leaders nod their heads in agreement.

“ _Absolutely_ ,” a Cerean colonel with a long, gray beard speaks up. “If we’re going to take the offense, destabilizing the regime must be our priority. _Then_ we go after Starkiller.”

“So, let’s hit them where it hurts.” Madani leans into the table with a little fire in her eyes. “They’re rabid to get their hands on these resources, so let’s do everything we can to slow them down.” She twists towards the General in her chair. “Let’s send out teams to interfere with their negotiations, convince as many systems as we can to keep their resources independently owned, help them understand what the First Order’s doing, what could happen if they gain a monopoly over varium and cortosis and iridium—”

“If we do that,” a young colonel interrupts, “we’ll make ourselves targets. All of our new bases, our new recruits— they’ll be vulnerable. We still have a long way to go before we’re strong enough to sustain an all-out war. And our growth is contingent on staying off the First Order’s radar. If we start _directly_ interfering with their negotiations…?” The colonel’s tone darkens ominously. Madani sighs, exasperated.

“It’s going to happen sooner or later, you know.” She raises an eyebrow at the young colonel. “We can’t lay low forever. We haven’t been recruiting and building bases so we can twiddle our thumbs. Dameron’s right.” She nods towards Poe. “It’s time for us to take the offense.”

“ _I agree…_ ” Admiral Patel starts slowly, his tone measured and contemplative. “But perhaps for the time being, we should go about this indirectly, pursue more subtle ways to weaken their regime.”

“And what?” Madani huffs. “Just ignore them as they bull their way through the galaxy, devouring its most valuable resources as they go?” 

“Admiral,” the General suddenly interrupts the exchange, “You’re right to be concerned about this issue. It’s one we can’t and won’t ignore. But the others are right. We’re not yet strong enough to invite direct conflict with the First Order.” She shakes her head firmly. Then she begins to scan the table, making eye contact with the other leaders.  

“I understand that most of you believe it’s time to mount an offense.” Her gaze lingers on Poe as she continues scanning. “So, let’s mount an offense. But let’s be smart about it. I’ve fought this kind of war before. _This time_ , I want the victory to last.” She cocks her head pointedly.

“We need to plan for the long term,” she continues, sitting back in her chair. “We need consider everything we’ve heard today and piece together the bigger picture, how we can sow seeds of discord on multiple fronts. When we attack Starkiller, and _we will_.” The General raises an eyebrow. “It must be planned strategically. It must be at a time when the First Order’s martial forces are stretched thin, when they have their hands full with something that requires them to put out many fires at once.”

“I-” Rey starts tentatively, sitting up in her chair. She can’t help but grow self-conscious when everyone at the table turns towards her. “I have an idea for how we might do that, actually.”

The General looks over at her, intrigued. She nods to Rey as if to say, “Go on.” Rey scoots forward in her chair, clearing her throat.

 “Some of you know,” she begins in a clear tone, trying to project confidence. “that I’m the leader of a project that does slave outreach throughout the galaxy. Its mission is to develop relationships with organizations that fight slavery and support them in whatever way we can.” Rey scans the table, making eye contact with the Resistance leaders. “As it turns out, that mostly means helping with slave rescues. In fact, since I started the project, that’s where the majority of our new recruits are coming from. Every time we do a slave rescue, nearly a third of them join the Resistance afterwards.” Several eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“These are _very_ valuable recruits.” Rey taps an index finger on the table. “They’re people who work hard, have a range of skills, and are _extremely committed_ to being part of an organization that cares about others like them. They’re concerned with how slavery has been spreading since the First Order destroyed the New Republic. They want to _stop_ it.”

“I’m no supporter of slavery,” the Cerean colonel suddenly speaks up, turning towards Rey. “But I don’t see how stopping it has anything to do with destabilizing the First Order’s regime.”

“Those two things could be much more related then you think, Colonel.” Rey glances over at the Cerean slyly, and he narrows his eyes, doubtful but curious. Rey starts scanning the table again.

“When I started this project,” she continues, “I learned very quickly that most of the organizations that fight slavery are very distrustful and very isolated. _But_ …” She raises a knowing eyebrow. “That’s starting to change. Because of us. The Resistance is becoming the glue that connects these efforts across the galaxy. More than that, our training bases are becoming a meeting ground of sorts, a place where those passionate against slavery come together, share experiences, and develop relationships. They’re building a _network_.” Rey leans into the table. “A network that could in time…” She pauses a moment, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “Orchestrate a large-scale slave rebellion.” Several Resistance leaders jerk back, struck by this idea, immediately registering its implications.

“ _Imagine_ ,” Rey intones forcefully, “if every slave market and every operation that runs on slave labor across the galaxy explodes into chaos all at once.” She shakes her head. “It’ll be a nightmare for the First Order. They’ll have dispatch troops all over, especially to systems where they have property to protect.” Poe shoots forward in his chair.

“ _That’s_ when we strike.” He points to Rey excitedly.

“ _Exactly_.” She leans towards him. “And not only that, but it’s very possible a slave rebellion could quickly transform into another kind of rebellion altogether. Given an association between the Resistance and the fight against slavery, given that this will be set into motion by Resistance members who are former slaves themselves, it’s not a stretch to count on many of these rebelling slaves joining _us_ and turning their ire in the First Order’s direction.” At this, Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, scrunching his face in doubt

“I don’t know about that _,”_ he starts slowly, pursing his lips. “These days, the First Order is building an association as well. After Delphon and now Apatros, many view them as a friend of slaves.” Several groans erupt around the table.

“It’s true.” The Mon Calamari man shakes his head. “They’re calling Kylo Ren the savior of Apatros, you know.” Poe immediately scoffs.

“You don’t think he actually did that, do you?” He challenges caustically. “Lead the slaves out of the mines _himself_?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” the Mon Calamari replies. “It matters what the galaxy believes.”

“And that,” Admiral Madani points to him emphatically. “That’s the real problem with this idea, isn’t it? We can’t expect a large-scale slave rebellion to somehow morph into a rebellion against the First Order when a sizable portion of the galaxy’s population is starting to view Kylo Ren as a hero. _A_ _hero_.”

“ _That man_ ,” the Cerean colonel spits through gritted teeth, “ _is no hero_.” He slams his fist on the table. “He spent the last decade racking up a body count that rivals _Darth Vader’s._ ”

“I know, I know.” Madani sighs, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “But you must realize that some people are starting to forget. They’re starting to forget the man who did those things. More and more, when they see Kylo Ren, they see the heart of Delphon, the savior of Apatros. They see the man who rebuilds their temples and marketplaces, who destroys vicious Outer Rim gangs. They see a leader who brings order and justice.” At this, the Cerean colonel grunts.

“That’s the biggest shock of all, isn’t it?” He looks around the table in disbelief. “If you compare Kylo Ren to Snoke, think about what he’s been doing since he came to power…” He shakes his head as his voice trails off. “He’s twice the leader Snoke ever was. He realizes that when it comes to controlling the galaxy, perception is half the battle, who people see at the hero and who they see as the villain. So, he’s trying to become the hero, trying to change the First Order’s image. And it’s _working_.”

“It’s _unbelievable_.” Poe slicks a hand over his face, sulking back in his chair. “Who knew that little _shit_ would actually be a half-decent leader?” Admiral Patel snorts in response.

“You’re not really that surprised, are you?” The admiral looks over to Poe but a second later jerks back, eyes wide, like he just realized he said something he shouldn’t have.

A wave of confusion ripples across the room as the Resistance leaders collectively turn their heads to Patel. They stare with knitted eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.  

The admiral gulps, casting his gaze downward, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A long silence passes before he straightens, clearing his throat.

“Of cour—” He starts but immediately stops, tugging at his collar as though it’s suddenly too tight. Finally, he drops his hand, letting out a nervous exhale.

“Of course, he’s a competent leader,” he finishes quietly. “He’s his mother’s son.”

The instant the words leave his mouth, Rey feels her heart cleaved in two, an explosion of the cruelest pain imaginable.

But this feeling isn’t coming from her…

It’s coming from the General.

Rey gasps, twisting around in her chair.

The General’s head is bowed, but otherwise, she appears as calm and self-possessed as ever. To look at her, no one would have the slightest clue how much pain she’s in, how much her heart is breaking.

But Rey knows. She _feels_ it. She’s never felt another person’s emotions so powerfully.

With one exception, of course.

An awkward silence descends over the room as the Resistance leaders stare at their hands or at the floor, some fidgeting uncomfortably in their seats. Rey fixes her eyes on the table, literally trembling at the force of the General’s emotions.

Suddenly, the General’s head snaps up.

“The meeting is adjourned,” she announces abruptly, her face hardened into an even expression. “Thank you all for your thoughts. Colonels and team leaders, if you have additional notes, submit them to Lieutenant Connix before you leave. Admirals, we’ll take three days to consider what we’ve heard, then reconvene to decide upon a course of action.” The General rises and walks swiftly to the row of consoles at the back of the room.  

The leaders gathered around the table glance at one another for a moment. Then, all at once, the room fills with the bustling of chairs sliding against the smooth floor and hushed voices whispering to one another as everyone begins filing towards the exit.

Everyone except for Rey. She sits frozen in her seat, eyes still fixed on the table. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand at her shoulder. She looks up to see Poe just as startled as she is. He knits his eyebrows.

“Are you ok?” He mouths the words. Rey nods briskly in response, trying to appear composed, but Poe doesn’t look entirely convinced. He tilts his head with a concerned expression.

“Come on,” He whispers, gesturing to the exit. “Let’s get out of here. Get something to eat. We’ll have our own debriefing.” Rey shakes her head.

“I’m a little tired from all this debating,” she replies softly. “I need some quiet for tonight. Talk tomorrow on our way back to the base?”

She feels Poe sink with disappointment, but he doesn’t show it. He only nods a couple of times, then reaches out for her shoulder, squeezing it gently before he turns and makes his way to the exit. Rey watches him until the door whirs shut, then shifts in her seat to face the back of the room.

The General stands in front of the consoles, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed, still consumed with an unforgivable agony.

Rey rises slowly, carefully pushing the chair out behind her. She stands still for a moment. Then she begins to walk quietly towards the General.

“If you don’t mind…” Rey stops abruptly at the sound of the older woman’s voice. “I’d like some time alone. Thank you.” The General doesn’t move, her head still bowed.

“Of course,” Rey responds softly. “I just—” She stops, taking a measured breath. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

At this, the General’s shoulders droop, and she lets out a sigh.

“I can’t hide from you, can I, Rey?” She lifts her head, sounding weary. “It’s a curse sometimes, isn’t it? Knowing how other people feel.” She doesn’t turn, keeping her back to her.

“Sometimes,” Rey answers quietly. “But usually… It’s more like an opportunity.” The General tenses, intuitively understanding Rey’s unspoken offer— to listen. And to comfort. The older woman gulps again as she takes some time to consider.

Rey’s sure she’s the last person the General would choose to talk to about this. Though she might feel differently if she knew the truth.

Why Rey is actually the perfect person to talk to.

Why she’s the only one who knows what it’s like for her to sit at a table with respected leaders and hear them curse his name, constantly reminding her of the evil that he’s done, that he’s doing.

Why she’s the only one who knows what it’s like for her to hear these things, to know that they’re true, but also know that they’re not the whole truth, that there’s another side.

Why she’s the only one who knows what it’s like to see beyond the mask, the human being under it, someone hurting and broken, someone with an instinct for kindness and compassion, an instinct he can’t kill no matter how hard he tries.

But of course, the General doesn’t know any of these things. From her perspective, Rey’s simply a Force-sensitive girl who can sense her emotions.  

“You know…” The General suddenly breaks the silence. She pauses, wrestling inwardly, debating whether or not to continue. She shakes her head. “I’m sure you’ll think this is crazy…” She grunts softly. “Even I think it’s crazy sometimes.” She looks up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

“It’s not that I don’t know who my son is.” The General finally turns to face Rey. Her expression is even except for her eyes, dark and churning with pain.

“I know.” She nods. “I know what he’s done. I know what he’s doing. I know what he’ll do when he finishes building that weapon. I know he’ll use it to force what he wants. And I know—” Her voice breaks, and she immediately looks down.

“I know that he’ll use the weapon, just like Snoke did. I know he’s capable of that.” She nods briskly, like she’s forcing herself to accept this.

“ _But_ …” Her voice trails off as she churns with a fresh wave of pain. “When I hear about things like… these building projects he’s commissioning, what they mean to people. Some of these Outer Rim invasions, what happened on Delphon and now Apatros…” She furrows her eyebrows, both pained and confused, seeming baffled by herself.

“My first instinct—” The words get caught in her throat. “My first instinct is to feel…” She shrugs her shoulders, at a loss. “Proud.” She finishes with tears glistening in her eyes. “I _know_ I shouldn’t feel that way. I _know_ it’s crazy but—”

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” Rey interrupts. “I don’t think it’s crazy at all.”

The General’s eyes snap to hers, tinged with surprise and not a little uncertainty. She juts her chin up, studying Rey closely. Rey stares back with an even gaze, trying to focus on nothing but the sincerity of her words. The women observe one another quietly, sensing what the other is feeling.

 And there, just for a small, precious moment, they connect in perfect understanding.

Leia doesn’t know why. There’s no logic to it. There’s no reason why this girl should be able connect with her so powerfully on this point, no reason why she should understand how a mother can feel proud of her son, even when that same son has shown himself capable of great evil. 

Leia can only figure that this is just one more sign, one more indication of how special this girl is, the great feats of empathy she’s capable of.

The General nods deeply to Rey, her pain subsiding somewhat, joined by the comfort of shared understanding.

The older woman turns away, dark eyes growing distant. The seconds pass as she seems to lose herself, lose herself in a lifetime of memories.  

“It’s the strangest thing,” she finally speaks again, shaking her head. “No matter what happens. No matter what he does. Even after Han.” She chokes the moment she says the name, squeezing her eyes shut and looking down. She gulps, fighting desperately to regain composure. But she can’t stop a stray tear from escaping down her cheek.

“He’s still my boy.” The words come out as a hoarse whisper. “And I just…” She quickly brushes away the tear with the back of her hand. “I just can’t seem to let go… I just can’t seem to stop hoping that maybe…” She stares intently into nothing, her face contorted in pain. “ _Maybe_ …” The word gets caught in her throat, and she can’t seem to bring herself to finish the sentence. She bows her head, consumed by a conflict of emotions, all of the shame and the hope and the heartbreak…

And the love.

Rey watches in utter agony, crushed by the General’s emotions as well as her own, an unmistakable heaviness at the pit of her stomach.

Guilt.

“I-I-” Rey stutters the words weakly. The General doesn’t move, still focused on the floor.

“I need to tell you something,” Rey blurts out the words in a jumble. The General’s head snaps up, eyebrows knitted, confused as to why Rey would choose _this_ of all moments to make some sort of confession.

Rey gulps, that heaviness in her stomach quickly transforming into something else— fear.

“I-” Rey catches her breath. “I need to tell you…” Her lungs suddenly feel shallow. “Something about…” Fear escalates into panic, her blood, her nerves, her insides all screaming, a strange dissonance between her mind and her body, her mind determined to finish the sentence but her body aghast that she would even _consider it_.

The General looks deeply confused now, tilting back with narrowed eyes.

Rey stands frozen, clenching her fists so tightly her fingernails dig into her palms, her body staging a rebellion against her mind, her throat tightening so much she can’t speak.

Suddenly, both women jump, startled by the sound of the door whirring open behind them.

Lieutenant Connix bursts into the room, her eyes wide and urgent. She runs straight to the General, halting abruptly at her side, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The General listens for a few moments then jerks back, alarmed.

“Is the transport ready?” She immediately asks.

“Yes.” The lieutenant nods.

“Rey.” The General steps towards her, eyes suddenly sharp and focused. “I need to go. I’m sorry for the abrupt departure.” She reaches out to take her hand. “Thank you for today. For everything. We’ll finish this another time, soon.” She gives her a firm nod but doesn’t wait for a response, swiftly moving past her to the door, Connix close at her heels.

And then, just like that, Rey stands alone in an empty room, gaping as the door whirs shut.

The silence is deafening.

Rey trembles, breathing heavily like she’s been running. She doesn’t move but only continues to stare straight ahead, frozen in place.  

She glances down at the floor.

Finally, she steps forward, walking slowly, her mind consumed by everything that just happened.

She picks up her pace the second she steps into the crisp, white hall of the base, turning sharply to the right. She’s sees no one except for a droid ambling awkwardly in her direction, the old 3PO unit that travels with the General.

“Hello,” the old droid greets pleasantly as she passes. Rey nods briefly in acknowledgement but doesn’t slow down, continuing briskly past him. She takes another sharp turn to the left but stops dead when she catches sight of a few colonels from the meeting strolling towards her.

She immediately dodges back down the hall, looking up and around, trying to think of another way to get to the guest quarters, one that will allow her to avoid running into anyone she knows. She jogs past the protocol droid, but suddenly halts. She turns tentatively to face him, a question in her eyes. The droid registers her expression, stopping to turn mechanically towards her, his robotic eyes wide and expectant.

“Do you…” Rey starts hesitantly. “Do you know another way to the guest quarters? Maybe a way that is… uh… more remote?” The droid jerks his head back, seeming to contemplate this for a moment.

“You can go through the service hall,” he offers brightly. “I can take you there.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” Rey answers, glancing behind her as she hears voices approach. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, of course,” the droid responds. “Follow me.” He resumes his awkward progress down the hall, Rey continuing beside him at a slowed pace, suddenly wishing this were one of the newer models with faster walking mechanics.

“Thank you.” She nods towards him. “I’ve just been in a very long meeting and would rather have some peace and quiet for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, I understand _completely_ ,” the droid responds with a kind of practiced weariness. “I’m a protocol droid, you see. I spend all day talking. I talk to people; I talk to droids; I talk to AC compactors; I talk to oscillating units; I talk to every sort of thing imaginable. And I’ve been doing this for over _sixty years!_ ” The droid exclaims as they turn down a narrow hall.

“So, trust me, I know what it’s like to grow tired of talking and listening to people talk,” he continues, heavy with fatigue. “Especially after a day of debating those vaporators in the basement. They’re the most cantankerous little buggers, you know. Whenever I’m sent to deal with them, I find myself dreading it because I know _exactly_ how it will go. I know it will be hours upon hours of useless blather. They just don’t know how to get to the point. It’s not in their programming. They just can’t stop themselves from going on and on and on, _oh!_ ” The 3po unit suddenly halts.

“Here we are.” He gestures to a door next to them. “The west service hall. Shall I take you the rest of the way?”

“No!” Rey answers a little too eagerly, then catches herself. “I wouldn’t want to delay you more than I already have.”

“Oh, it’s no bother,” the droid responds dutifully as he enters a code to open the door. “It is my pleasure to serve the General and her guests and it has been for many, many—”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Rey says hurriedly as the brushes past him into the service hall.

“Oh…” The droid sounds a bit startled. “You’re welcome!” He calls after her as she barrels down the hall.

She doesn’t look back, continuing swiftly, following along a curve, passing a couple of cleaning droids that scurry by without acknowledging her. She charges on purposefully, not paying much attention to her surroundings, just focusing on the path ahead.

Soon, she comes to the end of the hall, a heavy metal door. She presses a panel next to it and emerges into another crisp, white hallway. She looks to the right, then the left, and exhales with relief when she sees the entrance to the guest quarters just ahead.

She moves quickly towards it, the double doors whirring open as she gets closer. She walks into the lounge, keeping her head down, but only notices a couple of people whispering to each other in a corner of the room. She turns, continuing to her quarters, happy to find the hall is quiet, most everyone likely at dinner. When she gets to the door, she pauses a moment, searching her memory for the code. The moment it springs to mind, she enters it and stumbles quickly into the room.

A giant weight lifts from her shoulders as she hears the door whir shut behind her, the comfort of much-needed solitude enveloping her all at once. She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy exhale, tilting her face up to the ceiling.

Then she steps forward towards the bed, plopping down onto it and bringing a foot up to her knee, pulling at the heel of her boot. She casts her shoes to the side, and crawls back onto the bed, resting against the wall as she draws her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Quiet. _Finally_.

But the quiet doesn’t bring peace. How could it? Not after that meeting, not after what she just experienced with the General.  

Rey sighs, tilting her head back against the wall, running through the scene in her mind, what Admiral Patel said, the General’s reaction to it, how broken she felt, everything she told Rey, what Rey almost told her…

Almost.

At this, she gulps, that heaviness gathering again at the pit of her stomach, gnawing at her.

But that’s not all she feels. There’s something else too. Something that can only be described as…

Relief. Relief that the lieutenant interrupted them at the crucial moment.

Rey groans, dropping her forehead to her knees, the guilt growing even stronger at the recognition of this, that part of her is actually _thankful_ she didn’t get a chance to confess the truth.

Rey shakes her head, angry with herself, at a loss as to how she could feel this way, how she could be so _selfish_ when the General is hurting _so much_ …

She struggles inwardly with this contradiction, this grating of guilt against relief, and as she does, a question seeps in from the back of her mind, one that’s occurred to her many, many, _many_ times.

But her instinct is to push it away, to avoid facing it.

This is very unusual. 

Rey’s spent a lifetime alone, with only her inner voice for company. As a result, she’s grown quite self-aware. She’s spent so much time observing herself, analyzing her own thoughts and choices, why she thinks what she thinks, why she does what she does.

But there are a few things, soft spots, that extend beyond the purview of self-analysis.

And this question is one of them.

 

_Why hasn’t she told anyone about the bond?_

 

She’s had so many opportunities. _So many_.

Opportunities to tell Finn. Opportunities to tell Rose. Opportunities to tell Finn and Rose.

Opportunities to tell Daja. Opportunities to tell Jess. Opportunities to tell Poe. 

The opportunities keep coming and coming, and yet she lets each and every one of them drift by, going no further than to acknowledge their existence, like nodding cursorily to an acquaintance in passing.

She doesn’t know why she keeps letting these opportunities go. All she knows is that she has a deep-seated need to keep the bond hidden, to keep _everything_ about it hidden.

She’ll go to great lengths to do this. She’ll even lie.

Like she lied about Apatros.

Not a single soul in the Resistance knows she was the one who lead all of the slaves out of the mines that day. They don’t even know she was ever on the planet at all.

She didn’t _intend_ to lie about it. Just the opposite. She intended to shout it from the rooftops. It’s why she let herself get sold to Blood Dawn in the first place.

It was the chance of a lifetime, to infiltrate the mines of Apatros, _notorious_ for being impossible to escape.

She wanted to show everyone that they were wrong. She wanted to give people hope, the hope that there is _always_ a way to escape.

But then she returned to the training base, and everyone was abuzz with the news.

Kylo Ren. The savior of Apatros. Escorted all of the slaves out of the mines _himself_ , rescuing them from a wretched fate, being buried alive. 

And she just couldn’t. She couldn’t tell them.

So, she lied instead, said she got sold somewhere else and had a hard time finding a ship.

She’s ashamed of herself for it. She knows it was the wrong choice, lying to her friends, letting _him_ take the credit for what _she_ did.

But there’s something inside her, something she hardly recognizes. It’s powerful, a vague and unsettling fear.

If she had told everyone the truth, if she told everyone she was on Apatros the day that happened, there would be questions. _Lots_ of questions. And she’d have to answer them. And if she did…

Rey shudders instinctively.

No. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let people get that close to finding out. She _must_ keep the bond hidden, protected.

But today, with the General…

Today was the very first time she felt compelling need to just let it all out, reveal _everythin_ g— about the bond, what’s been happening, the changes both of them are going through, the powerful connection between them, how they feel about each other. _Everything_.

She’s thought about it before, telling the General about the bond.

Because she has _a right_ to know.

She’s the leader of the Resistance. She should know the context behind some of the decisions the Supreme Leader is making, Rey’s role in influencing him, how this impacts their fight against the First Order.

But more importantly, she’s his mother. And she loves him.

Rey wasn’t sure about that until today, but it doesn’t surprise her. Since becoming a team leader, she’s had more opportunities to interact with the General, to see and feel the depths of her compassion.

 _Of course_ , she still loves her son, even after everything he’s done, all the pain he’s caused. _Of course,_ she still desperately hopes that one day he’ll come back to her. 

That, more than anything, has Rey decided.

She must tell the General about the bond.

She deserves that hope, the knowledge that the Force is working in her son’s life, confronting him with his conflict and transforming him as a result.  

She needs to know that her son is changing, that he _will_ return to her. In time.

It would be cruel for Rey to let her go on in agony, to let her live with all the pain she felt inside her today.

And, as much as she hates to admit it, Rey can’t help but consider a more selfish motivation to confess.

The fact that the General is the one person who might _actually_ understand the situation Rey now finds herself in, how she can love someone who has done and continues to do evil things.

Neither of them should suffer alone. They should be allies, confidants. They can listen to each another, offer comfort, understanding, and much-needed perspective.

Yes. _Yes, yes, yes._

She will tell the General about the bond. As soon as possible.

Rey nods firmly to herself, hardened in resolve. And yet, in the same instant that her mind is determined, that sick, panicked feeling starts to creep in, almost like a gag reflex, an instinctive revulsion against the idea of letting _anyone_ in on what has always been their secret, just between the two of them.

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and tries to squelch the feeling. But it grows, overtaking her body with a kind of nausea. She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, her legs still curled into her chest, frustrated with her inability to control herself, to banish an instinct that she _knows_ is wrong.

She takes a deep breath, trying to slip into a meditative state, a calm self-awareness like being outside her body. She concentrates for a minute, breathing in and out slowly, imagining each exhale purging her body of these negative emotions.

There now. It’s starting to fade away.

_Wait…_

No.

It’s just diluting, joined by something else, something stronger. Something _very_ familiar.

Rey immediately groans, slouching against the wall.

 _Of course_ this is happening right now.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, yet even as she appears outwardly annoyed, she feels a rush of anticipation. She bites her lip and looks down, eager in spite of herself.

She repositions on the bed, crossing her legs and bringing her hands to rest on her lap. Then, she bows her head and waits, concentrating on his presence drawing nearer.

The thought crosses her mind. How much has changed since this first started happening. She used to dread the bond. Then, eventually, she resigned herself to it, accepted the fact that the Force has a purpose for them. Even then, it was still irritating, usually an unwelcome interruption.

But now…?

Now she actually looks forward to it.

Rey sighs, dropping her shoulders, partly frustrated with herself. Yet another part of her is calm, accepting of what she feels in her heart…

This is part of the process. This is how things are _meant_ to happen.

The growing warmth in her core envelops her just like it always does. And when it subsides, she feels him in the room with her.

For a second, she waits. Then, she looks up.

He’s standing a few feet in front of the bed, head cocked, dark eyes warm, the smallest smile twinging his lips.

She’s not the only one who’s been looking forward to this.

They gaze at one another for a moment, silently acknowledging the shared pleasure of one another’s company.

Then, he turns, inspecting the room, taking in the new surroundings. He steps towards the desk, sliding a gloved hand over its smooth, white surface. 

“Not exactly how I pictured your room,” he comments casually, continuing his inspection.

“It’s not my room,” she corrects him. “It’s guest quarters.”

He grunts in acknowledgment but doesn’t press any further, instead beginning to walk towards the bed. He stops just in front of it, his black eyes fixed on hers in that way that makes her heart skip a beat. His gaze soon drifts, traveling down to her stomach.

“How’s your wound?” He nods towards her.

“It’s fine.” She shrugs. “Completely healed.” She juts her chin up as if to emphasize its triviality. He stares at her, appearing even, but she can sense him twitch inwardly with annoyance.  “How’s your head?” She nods towards him.  

“Fine,” he says absently, turning to take a seat on the bed. Rey scoots forward a bit.

“You had a concussion, didn’t you?” She probes as she moves next to him.

“It certainly wasn’t the first time,” he answers dismissively. She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she announces. He looks over at her with knitted eyebrows, confused by this.

“ _The savior of Apatros_ ,” she says the words in mock triumph.

“I _did not_ start that rumor,” he immediately insists, sitting up.

“Well, you certainly didn’t contest it either,” she observes, narrowing her eyes.

“Did you?” He demands pointedly. Rey quickly looks away.

“No,” she answers just above a whisper. “I didn’t.” She stares at the floor.

“Why not?” He asks in a low voice.

“Because…” Rey says the word with conviction but goes no further. “Because…” She starts again more tentatively but still can’t finish the sentence. She furrows her eyebrows, searching her mind for what to say.

“Because you don’t want anyone to know about us,” he finishes quietly. Rey tenses but doesn’t respond. Several seconds pass in awkward silence.

“Have you…” Ben purses his lips as his voice trails off. “Told anyone about… any of it? The bond? Me?” She shakes her head, still looking down.

“Hmm,” he muses to himself, crossing his arms. Rey twitches a little in annoyance.

“Have _you_ —” She starts accusingly but stops, realizing there’s no point in asking the question.

Of course, he hasn’t told anyone. Who does he have to tell? 

She shifts forward again, squirming inside, feeling very uncomfortable with the subject. She scoots back on the bed to rest against the wall again, and he follows her, sliding just next to her and planting his feet wide in front of him.

More silence.

“So, why haven’t you told anyone?” He glances at her with a glint in his eye.

Rey bristles at the question.

“Because, it’s no one’s _business_ ,” she responds, irritated. But she soon softens, dropping her shoulders and slouching.

“Though…” Her eyes drift up to the ceiling as her voice trails off. “Just before you got here,” she continues hesitantly. “I was thinking…” She shifts, sitting up a little. “I was thinking…” She starts rubbing a thumb and index finger together in her lap. Ben watches, intrigued, curious for her to finish.

“I was thinking about telling your mother,” she says finally. 

“ _What!?_ ” He instantly shoots up, eyes wide with panic. “ _NO!_ Rey, you _cannot_ do that. You _cannot_ tell my mother about us.”

She looks over at him with knitted eyebrows, both annoyed and confused by this reaction.

“Why not?” She demands. “She’s your _mother_.”

“Rey,” he sputters, already moving to the edge of the bed. He gets up, shaking his head feverishly. He starts pacing the room, growing increasingly alarmed.

“I don’t care who you tell.” He gestures emphatically. “Tell the traitor. Tell your gambler friend. Tell that Poe idiot. But _do not_ tell my mother. DO NOT.”

“ _Ben_ ,” she protests, scooting forward. “Out of all the people I could tell, she’s the only one who actually _deserves_ to know, who has _a right_ to know. You should have seen her today—”

“Wait a minute,” he cuts her off, halting with a cold pang of fear. “She’s not here right now, is she?” He stiffens in terror, glancing from side to side.

“She was.” Rey shrugs. “But she had to leave. Some sort of emergency.” He gulps, his eyes widening, hardly relieved to hear this. Instead he seems struck, considering some horror in his mind.

Rey watches closely, deeply intrigued.

“Do you…” She tilts her head. “Do you think she would be able to sense you here?”

“I don’t know.” He shudders, pacing the room again. “But I _do not_ want to find out.” He gestures emphatically with a hand. Rey purses her lips, considering this.

“She probably could,” she concludes casually. “I mean, by all measures, you’re physically here through the bond. Droids can see you, people can see you, medical scanners pick up your vitals—”

“It would be a damn nightmare.” He interrupts, covering his eyes with a palm as he continues pacing. He wipes it slowly over his face, shaking his head.

“Why?” Rey sits up, growing baffled. “Would it really be so terrible to see your mother?”

“That—” He suddenly shoots towards her, eyes furious. “Is _exactly_ why I _don’t_ want you telling her about us.” She leans back as he leans in, pointing a finger in her face. “I _cannot_ see my mother again.” He straightens, bearing over her. “I _cannot_.” He glares at her before turning and stalking to the other end of the room.

Rey looks down at her hands in her lap, her mind surging, trying to work out what’s going on. A minute passes as he stands with his back to her, tense and deeply disquieted.

“I don’t understand…” She breaks the silence. “Why can’t you see your mother?” He exhales weakly, hanging his head.

“Rey…” He gulps, crossing his arms, his fear starting to darken into something else. “You of all people… you of all people should know…” His shoulders seem heavy, burdened by a terrible weight. “You of all people should know why I can never look my mother in the eye again,” he finishes quietly.

And that’s when it hits, that distinctive mixture of anguish and remorse ripping through him, tinged with a strong undertone of self-loathing.

The same feeling he gets every time he thinks about his father.

Rey’s heart instantly drops, overcome a strong swell of compassion. She stares at his back, his broad shoulders hunched over, and churns with everything he feels, a harsh reminder of the burden he carries, how much he hates himself for what he did.

A heavy silence descends over the room.

“She loves you,” Rey says softly.

“Yeah, sure…” He grunts, looking up at the ceiling.

“She _does_.” Rey shoots to her feet. Ben turns to face her, dark eyes angry and guarded. “I _felt_ it,” she insists, stepping towards him. “Today.”

“Rey, no.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you think you felt but—”

“ _Ben_ ,” she cuts him off, moving just in front of him. “I wish you could’ve been there. I wish you could have felt what I felt, how much she _loves_ you, how much her heart breaks for you.” He’s still shaking his head, not accepting this. “She said she was _proud_ of you.” At this, he scoffs.

“Now you’re being _ridiculous_ ,” he spits.

“I _swear_.” Rey looks up earnestly. “If you don’t believe me, come in my mind and see for yourself.” She juts her chin up. His eyes start to soften, still clouded with anger but also a little uncertainty. He doesn’t take her up on the offer, instead stepping to the side, rubbing his jaw with a hand, intense with thought.

“Who—” He stops, struggling to get the question out, somehow eager and reluctant at the same time. “Who did she tell this to exactly?”

“Me,” Rey answers. “Just me.” He turns to face her, deeply wary of this.

“We were in a meeting of Resistance leaders.” Her eyes lock onto his as she steps towards him. “And someone made a comment… about you… about you being your mother’s son.” His expression suddenly falls. “And…” She gulps, bowing her head. “Her heart just _shattered_ ,” Rey finishes at a whisper.

“She adjourned the meeting almost immediately. I stayed behind after everyone left just to make sure she was ok.” Rey looks up and is met with dark eyes churning in anguish, a mirror of his mother’s not twenty minutes ago.

“She told me…” She catches her breath. “That whenever she hears about your building projects, about things like Delphon and Apatros, her first instinct is to feel proud.” He furrows his eyebrows, the pain deepening. “She told me… that even after everything you’ve done, even after Han…” His throat visibly tightens. “You’re still her boy.”

He instantly brushes past her, walking to the bed. Rey doesn’t move, frozen in place. She can’t see him, but she can feel him, her body trembling as a storm of emotions rip through her, a torrent of shame and disbelief and heartbreak…

And love.

Rey scrunches her face, overwhelmed with the familiarity of it, with feeling such a deep, unforgiving agony twice in one day. She gasps, unable hold back any longer. Tears spill over her cheeks as she looks down, gripping her own arm just above her elbow. She tries to keep quiet, remaining still.

She gulps, fighting to compose herself, bringing a trembling hand up to her face to wipe away the tears. She takes a breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. She waits until she regains control before turning around.

Ben sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over with his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. He looks shocked, dazed, but also gripped with a terrible sadness, a deep misery coursing through him, memories from another life flickering across his eyes.

Rey’s never felt him like this before, so open, so vulnerable, all of the brokenness he works so hard to keep hidden utterly exposed.

She waits a moment before moving to the bed and quietly taking a seat next to him. He doesn’t acknowledge her, just remains still, hunched over, consumed in his inner torment. She glances at him, aching with his pain as if it were her own.

She shifts back on the bed, drawing her knees into her chest, watching him. Then, very carefully, she scoots to the side, sliding just behind him. He tenses slightly, but otherwise doesn’t react. She pauses, uncertain. Finally, she extends a hand to rest gently on his back.

At this, he lets out a heavy exhale, hanging his head. Rey moves forward, dropping her legs over the edge of the bed on either side of him and laying her body against is back. She wraps her arms around him, slipping her hands by his sides and clasping her forearms at his chest. He gulps, but doesn’t stop her or push her away. Instead, he sits up a little, bringing a hand to Rey’s arms around him, squeezing her gently.

She tightens her hold, burying her face in his shoulder. He inhales deeply, Rey rising with his breath, her chest pressed against his back, and falling with his exhale. She loses herself in the rhythm of it, the rhythm of his body, his warmth, his breath, giving herself over to the physical connection as much as the emotional one, the shared agony, a powerful merging that extends far beyond the normal bounds of empathy.

He soon brings both arms into his chest, wrapping them around hers still wrapped around him. As he does, she feels him soften inwardly, the storm somewhat tempered by the comfort of her, the fact that she’s experiencing all of this with him, that he’s not alone.

They sit together like this, unaware of their surroundings, unaware of time passing. Their eyes are closed, minds focused, losing themselves in this oneness made possible only through the bond.

Eventually, Rey lifts her head, gazing at the back of his neck, still writhing in the most excruciating pain, like being ripped apart at the seam.

She can’t even begin to imagine it. Living in this kind of agony, carrying it around with her day in and day out.

How does he live like this? How does he function with this brokenness inside him, this guilt, this remorse, eating at him, diminishing his spirit?  

It’s killing him. It’s just _killing_ him.

“Ben,” Rey murmurs, resting her chin on his shoulder. He doesn’t move or react. “I think…” She continues softly. “I think it would be good for you. To see your mother again.”

He sighs heavily, lifting his head. He waits, reveling in her embrace for a moment more, before he pulls apart her arms and rises. He walks forward, covering his eyes with a palm.

“No, Rey.” His tone is quiet but firm. “I’ve been clear on that point. No.”  

“But…” Rey scoots to the edge of the bed. “I really think you need to.”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything,” he snipes.

“ _Yes_ , you do,” Rey insists.

“Why?” He whips around. “Why do I _need_ to see my mother?”

“ _Because_ ,” Rey articulates, looking up with clear eyes. “You need… you need to start the process…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Of healing,” she finishes confidently.  

“ _Healing?_ ” He repeats, half-mocking.  

“Yes, healing.” She raises her eyebrows. “And to do that, you need forgiveness. You need to forgive yourself. For your fath—”

“ _NO!_ ” He barks angrily and she jumps, surprised. “ _NO!_ ” He repeats more coldly, his face hard and determined. “I have no interest in that. I don’t want it. And I don’t deserve it. _NO_.”

“ _Ben_.” Rey’s shoulders drop. “You _have_ to. You can’t keep living like this, dying inside— _Don’t_ deny it.” She cuts him off before he can protest, pointing at him. “I feel what you feel through the bond, remember? I know how much it’s killing you. It will _destroy_ you if you let it. The only way to stop it is to face what happened. _Talk_ to your mother. Tell her what you showed me. Tell her about that moment, everything that lead up to it—”

“ _Rey!_ ” He hisses at her. “Did we not make an agreement that we would _never_ speak about this subject again?” He cocks his head. She sighs and crosses her arms, looking down.

“Yes,” she mutters begrudgingly

“Good. Then this conversation’s over.” He turns his back to her, running his fingers through his hair. Rey shifts on the bed, cursing herself inwardly for agreeing to the stupid condition in the first place.

It was a bad choice for the long term. How is she supposed to help him heal if he refuses to talk about it?

She huffs, slouching, her arms still crossed.

“I don’t see why I can’t simply _tell_ your mother about the bond,” she grouses under her breath. Ben immediately throws his head back, exasperated. “Just because she knows, doesn’t mean you have to see her.” He lets out a groan.  

“ _Why?_ ” He whips around angrily. “What would be the point of that?”

“Because she’s _in pain_ , Ben,” Rey admonishes, shooting her feet. “You know how you just felt? That’s how _she_ feels too.” At this, he sinks, that misery starting to seep back in. “She doesn’t deserve to feel like that.” Rey shakes her head. “She doesn’t deserve to walk around with that burden. She deserves some _hope_.” At this, he narrows his eyes.

“What hope?” He demands. Rey glances to the ceiling.

“Just the hope of knowing…” She clicks her tongue, stalling, considering how to continue. “Knowing that…” She squints. “Her son is changing.” She looks back and is met with dark eyes like slits, suspicious and cutting.

“Changing how?” He asks accusingly. Rey doesn’t answer, just stares, her jaw hardened.

“Changing into…” He attempts to finish in a mocking tone. “Ben Solo?” She flinches slightly.

“ _Damn it_ , Rey,” he growls, turning away from her. “You _have got_ to let that go.” He points emphatically, whipping back around. “I _am not_ Ben Solo. I _will never_ be Ben Solo. And I don’t want you filling my mother’s head with that nonsense.”

“But it’s _cruel_ ,” Rey protests. “It’s cruel to let her go on like this, to let her live with all of this pain—”

“And you don’t think it’s equally cruel to give her false hope?” He cuts her off. “To fill her head with lies about her son coming back to her?” Rey crosses her arms, fuming.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “You _will not_ do that to my mother. I won’t have it. What’s done is done. There’s no going back. Only going forward. Both of us need to move on, to accept the reality and learn to live with it, not bury ourselves in delusions of reparation.” She rolls her eyes.

“ _Rey_ ,” Ben warns, stepping just in front of her, bearing down with cold eyes. “I want you to promise me,” he demands. “Promise me you won’t tell my mother about what’s been happening— about the bond, about _any of it_.” She tenses and looks away.

“ _Rey_ ,” he says again, his tone darkening. “Promise me. _Now_.”

“You don’t have the right to keep this from her.” Rey looks up, shaking her head. “It’s not your decision.”

“She’s _my_ mother, _not_ yours,” he spits back, leaning over her. “I have _every_ right to have a say in what my mother does or does not know. And I _don’t_ want her knowing about this. Promise me,” he demands again. Rey glares wordlessly, fixed in place just under him. He twitches his jaw, a torrent of rage beginning to rise within, threatening to burst through the surface.

But then, a curious thing happens.

The rage abates. It tempers, enough to reveal what’s under it, a desperate, aching compassion. The fire in his eyes dies down to something more like pleading, and Rey feels the smallest chink in her resolve.  

His jaw softens, and soon he lifts a hand to her face, his gaze locked on hers. He exhales heavily, closing his eyes and leaning over to rest his forehead on hers.

“Please, Rey,” he whispers brokenly. “Please, promise me. Promise you won’t set my mother up for more misery, more disappointment. Don’t do that to her _,_ ” he begs.

Rey droops, exhausted from channeling his emotions, this time a tender kind of heart-heaviness. She sighs, the realization washing over her, that this request isn’t rooted in selfishness but consideration, his way of protecting his mother, a twisted form of mercy.

And piece by piece, her resolve falls apart, shattered by his desperate pleading, the way he whispers “please.”

She begins to nod, and he responds with a relieved exhale.

“Thank you.” He strokes her cheek with a thumb. “Thank you.” He kisses her forehead and pulls away.  

Rey nods wordlessly, but steps back, letting his hands slip from her face. She turns to walk towards the bed, a strong wave of regret already rushing in. She sinks onto the mattress, eyes distant and thoughtful, leaning over to rest her forearms on her knees.

Ben watches for a moment then moves to take a seat beside her. She remains still, attention forward, but she can feel him studying her, reading her.

“You’re free tell anyone else, you know” he says flatly. “Just not my mother.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone else.” She twitches.

“Why not?’ He has that knowing undertone again. She doesn’t answer, just continues staring ahead into nothing.

“Rey.” He grunts softly, leaning towards her. “Why haven’t you _really_ told anyone about the bond?”

“I _told you_ ,” she snipes at him. “Because it’s no one’s business.”

“Bullshit,” he responds reflexively. “You’re the one who claims you talk to people now, tell them things, let yourself be vulnerable. So why not this?”  Rey bristles, rising from the bed to step away.

“Why do you care?” She asks defensively. “What’s it to you if I tell anyone or not?” She turns to face him as he rises.

“It’s nothing to me.” He shrugs. “I just want you to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

He steps towards her, dark eyes fixed on hers in that way that makes her feel like he’s looking into her and not at her.

“Admit the truth,” he says, stopping just in front of her, a subtle smile on his lips. “You haven’t told anyone because you want the bond to be ours, _just_ ours.” Rey flinches a bit, fighting the instinct to look away. “You haven’t told anyone because the moment you do, it won’t feel like ours anymore, _our connection_ , beyond anyone’s reproach, beyond anyone’s understanding.” He raises an eyebrow, inviting her to challenge this. 

She glares at him, hardened, searching her mind for a rebuttal.

But she finds nothing.

Because he’s right.

Her shoulders drop the moment the realization hits, that she _does_ want to keep the bond intimate, just between them, _their_ connection, away from the scrutiny of others. She looks down, beginning to process this more fully. The pieces start to come together in her mind, the whole picture, the desire, the fear, the true reason she wants to keep the bond secret…

She covers her mouth with a palm, cringing inwardly.

“Rey.” Ben interrupts her thoughts. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says gently. She looks up and is met with a soft gaze. “Wanting to keep this between us.” He lifts a hand to stroke her cheek.

Her heart quickens at his touch, at the tenderness in his eyes. Without meaning to, her gaze drifts down to his lips. A second later they descend, seeking out hers.

She instantly flinches and steps back.

He rolls his eyes, withdrawing his hand, filling with exasperation.

“Rey, why do you keep doing this?” He demands, at a loss. “Why do you keep fighting what you want, what you _know_ is destiny?”

She catches her breath, his question piercing directly to the heart. It inflames a painful contradiction, all of the longing and desire, how right it feels to be with him, the calm certainty that this _is_ what the bond is for, crashing like a wave against all the doubt and the shame, the vague feeling that what she’s been doing is wrong, that she should _never_ let things get this far.

She turns away, churning, walking towards the bed with her shoulders hunched into her ears. She crosses her arms tightly around her, almost defensively, like armor.

“Ben.” She pushes out an exhale, her shoulders suddenly feeling weighed down. “Have you…” She presses her lips together. “Have you ever thought about this situation from my perspective, I mean _really_ thought about it?” She turns to face him. He twitches his jaw, his gaze wavering, but says nothing.

“Do you realize…” She starts with a heavy breath. “That every day I’m surrounded by people who hate you and everything you stand for?” She raises an eyebrow.

No response. He just stares at her, his eyes growing guarded.

“Do you realize…” She continues, reluctant yet determined. “That every day I hear people worry about what you’ll do when you finish building Starkiller?” She tilts her head. Still nothing.

“Do you realize…” She gulps and looks down, her throat suddenly tightening. “That I actually know people whose family and friends were killed on your orders, some by your own hand? That I have to feel their brokenness, their grief, how they’d give anything for just one more moment with their loved ones?” She looks up to find him staring at her with a blank face.

“You don’t have to feel that.” She shakes her head. “But I do.” Her voice breaks slightly as she pats her heart. He maintains an even gaze but she feels him twist inwardly with a mixture of compassion and shame.

“So, could you…” The words get caught in her throat. “Could you maybe… consider what that’s like for me, why it’s hard for me to give into this when I have to live with that every day?” Her eyes plead with his, begging him to understand. He looks vulnerable now, exposed, his expression reflecting the heavy sinking in his heart.

Rey looks away, her own heart filling with pain. She sighs, feeling depleted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders droop as she stares at the floor, dazed and emotionally exhausted.

Ben doesn’t move. Not at first. He just stands for a minute, frozen. A long silence passes before she hears him step to the side, pulling out a chair from the desk and taking a seat. Her gaze drifts tentatively upwards.

He’s slouching a bit, his arms crossed, dark eyes glazed over. He looks crestfallen.

“Why…?” He abruptly breaks the silence, shifting in his seat, still looking down and not at her. “If that’s what you hear every day… If that’s… If that’s what you feel…” He furrows his eyebrows, deeply confused. “ _Then_ _why_ …?” He shakes his head.

Instead of finishing the question, he drops his arms, leaning over in his seat, sick with insecurity and doubt.

Rey gasps softly the instant she realizes what he’s trying to ask, what he can’t bring himself to say. She immediately rises and walks swiftly over to kneel just in front of him. He looks up, surprised.

“Ben.” She stares at him with clear, confident eyes. “The man I hear about, the man who builds superweapons and orders villages to be destroyed...” She shakes her head solemnly. “That’s not the man I see through the bond. That’s not who you _really_ are.” She leans forward, pressing a hand to his chest, just over his heart.

“ _That’s_ the man I love,” she intones passionately. “ _You_. Everything the bond’s shown you to be. And whenever I hear people talk about Kylo Ren, all I can do is hope that one day, they’ll have a chance to see the man _I_ _see_.” She withdraws her hand, never taking her eyes off his. “All I can do is hope that one day you’ll embrace that part of who you are.” She juts her chin up. “Just like your mother does.”  

He flinches slightly but doesn’t look away. He just stares with those expressive black eyes, flickering with all his conflict, all his doubt, but also warmth and vulnerability, the knowledge that someone sees him, _all_ of him, even the parts he’d rather hide.

Rey focuses on those parts in her mind, everything he wishes he wasn’t— his kindness, his compassion, his tenderness, his protectiveness, his generosity. She lets herself well with that warm glow, a steady pulsing like a heartbeat, how much she loves him. His eyes gradually soften, the storm of emotions sweeping away until only one his left, the one that reflects what he sees in her.

They stare at one another quietly, almost in reverence, a deep gratitude for this connection that only they can understand.

For once, Rey’s not surprised when she sees him melt away before her eyes, leaving behind nothing but an empty chair. She was expecting it, had already felt it in her heart.

The Force accomplished what it needed to today.  

She sits back on her calves, placing a palm on the seat in front of her, feeling the traces of his warmth. She gulps, looking down, her spirits sinking like they always do just after he disappears, a familiar trio of emotions…  

Loneliness. Longing. Feeling… incomplete.

She sighs and hangs her head, taking some time to give herself over to the feeling, this experience that seems just as much a part of the bond as when he’s here with her. 

After a minute, she shifts, rising to crawl onto the chair. She straightens, crossing her legs, beginning to review the evening in her mind, everything that happened, everything they talked about. She rests a forearm on the desk beside her, drumming her fingers on the surface.

They were both confronted with some things they needed to see tonight. Uncomfortable things. But necessary things.

He needed to know that his mother still loves him, that she’s proud of him. And he needed to know that there’s someone else out there who knows who he really is, who sees the man he’s capable of being.  

And she…

She needed to finally admit the truth.

Why she hasn’t told anyone about the bond.

Ben was right. Partially. She wants the bond to be theirs, something pure and untouched by prying eyes.

But there’s another side to that, something she’s just now starting to realize.

The reason she hasn’t told anyone is the same reason hasn’t been able to give in to what she feels.

She’s ashamed. She’s ashamed for letting her guard down, for falling in love in love with a man who’s done terrible things, things that are in direct conflict with her values, with the values of those around her.

And as much as she knows that what’s happening is meant to be, that being with Ben is her destiny, there’s a part of her that worries she’s wrong, that giving into this relationship would be _wrong_. She worries that if others knew about Ben, what’s happening between them, she would be forced to accept this, to hear something she desperately _doesn’t_ want to hear.

Not telling people about the bond… This has been about avoiding accountability.

Rey continues drumming her fingers, growing increasingly unsettled.

She can’t go on like this, constantly fighting an inner war, desperately trying to distinguish what’s right from what’s wrong, all the while feeling blind, like she can’t even see what’s in front of her.  

She knows what she needs to do.

She stops drumming, laying her palm flat on the table.

In the next instant, she shoots out of her chair, heading straight for her boots lying next to the bed. She sweeps them off the floor and plops down, pulling them on quickly. She rises again, racing towards the door and pressing a panel to open it. She walks into the hall, looking to the right and the left, noticing how quiet it still is. She marches towards Poe’s room, hoping he’s back from dinner, or will be soon.

She needs to let him know she won’t be leaving with him tomorrow.

As she makes her way down the hall, that heaviness returns to her gut, the cold weight of guilt.

But it’s of a different nature now.

She takes a moment to acknowledge it, to accept what it means, to remonstrate herself for making a promise she couldn’t keep.

But she forges on, determined, her mind set.

This is the _right_ thing to do. It’s about time she do it.

 

***

 

Leia sighs heavily as she descends from the ship, her gait slow and beleaguered, a reflection of her inward state.

Exhausted. Depleted. She hates to use the word desperate, but…

How else can she describe this dog-tired heaviness, like she’s at the end of her rope?

“Welcome back, General,” C3po greets as she steps down from the ramp.

“Hello, 3po,” she responds wearily, briefly patting his robotic shoulder.

“I take it things didn’t go very well,” he observes as they begin walking towards the entrance.

“I see you got a tune-up on your emotional recognition programming,” she comments wryly as they amble forward.

“Why, yes I did!” The droid exclaims, clearly pleased to hear this. “I’m so happy you noticed. It’s made a phenomenal difference. I’m seeing all kinds of emotional gradients now that I didn’t see before. For example, the distinct position of your shoulders combined with the slackness of your face indicates deep discouragement bordering on hopelessness—”

“Thank you, 3po,” Leia interrupts. “That’s quite enough for now.” She shoots him a look as the double doors whir open in front of them.

“Ah!” The droid tilts his head back in recognition. “I see. Of course.”

They continue into the wide hall of the base, sparsely populated with a Resistance personnel and droids going about their business. Leia immediately turns to the right, C3po following close behind.

“Shall I have Lieutenant Connix meet you in the conference center?” He asks.

“Not at the moment,” Leia answers with a sigh. “Check back with me in an hour, will you?”  

“Certainly, General,” the droid responds dutifully before turning away.

Leia continues down the crisp, white hall, moving more slowly than usual, her body just as exhausted as her mind.

She knows she should hit the ground running, meet with Connix immediately, start reviewing their connections with the Kuatan government.

But she’s just so _damn tired_.

She can’t think straight. She needs to collect her thoughts, reflect, think about the bigger picture.

This is clearly the start of a trend.

It’s the third Resistance donor in a month to have their property confiscated by their system’s government. It was one of their biggest donors this time, lost his entire business overnight and is now locked in a Kuatan prison on bogus charges of illegal trading.

There’s no evidence _whatsoever_ , of course. It’s all based on hearsay. But even after _hours_ of debating, exhaustively reviewing the charges, the Kuatan officials wouldn’t budge.

Leia shakes her head, remembering the look on the governor’s face, the shame in his heart, when she asked him point blank what was _really_ behind all of this.

It was more of a rhetorical question. They both know who’s behind it.

But the First Order doesn’t want to be seen directly interfering with the Resistance’s activities. They want it to seem as though the Resistance is dying all on its own, just a natural by-product of the galaxy’s growing trust in their regime. It’s all about keeping up appearances…

Leia grunts wryly, her heart growing heavy as a memory from long ago replays in her mind.

She was on Chandrila, waiting to meet with the Fallian shah. She wasn’t on a New Republic transport but a dinky old ship she’d borrowed for the occasion.

He was with her, like was so often back on those days. How old was he then…? Eleven maybe?

He didn’t understand why she couldn’t use her own transport, why she had to conduct her meeting with the shah secret.

“He’s the leader of an openly hostile government,” she’d told him. “The New Republic can’t be seen conducting business with him. It would make it appear as though we condone his actions.”

“Then why are you doing this?” He’d asked with a huff.

“ _Because_ I want to try to talk some sense into him,” she’d replied. “See if we can’t sort through this mess.” He’d sulked back in his seat.

“Then invite him to the Senate, like everyone else.”

“He won’t do that,” Leia had told him. “He doesn’t want it to look like he’s giving in to our demands. He has to keep up appearances too.”

“That’s _stupid_.” He’d crossed his arms, glowering into the floor. “Appearances shouldn’t matter. Only the truth should matter.”

“You’re not wrong, son,” she’d said wearily. “But the reality is that appearances _do_ matter. What people see, what people think directly impacts what you are and aren’t able to accomplish.” He’d rolled his eyes before she finished speaking then shot out of his chair, stalking out of the lounge all high and mighty with his nose in the air.

She’d watched him go, sighing, wondering if he listened to a word she just said.

Now, years later, she has her answer.

Leia bows her head, her pace slowing as a heavy heartsickness crushes down upon her, so deep and so familiar it seems interwoven into her very being, part of who she is now.  

A second later, her head snaps up and she quickens her pace, fighting that tightness in her throat.

This is not the time to dwell on such things. She has work to do, a friend to get out of prison.

She charges onward, the door to her study not far ahead. As she gets closer, she slows again, sensing something, a presence she wasn’t expecting. She furrows her eyebrows as she presses a panel by the door.

The moment she steps into the room, Rey rises from a chair at the center console, her eyes wide and expectant.

“Rey.” Leia walks towards her, concerned. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rey assures her, shaking her head. “At least… not urgently.”

Leia continues towards her, titling her head, sensing the young woman’s emotions, a sick anxiety fraying at her nerves.

“Sit down,” she commands gently, gesturing to the chair as she pulls out another one close by. Rey nods and takes a seat, gulping as she does.

Leia lowers onto her own chair, watching closely, growing more concerned.

She knows this feeling. She’s all too familiar with it. It’s the kind of feeling people get right before they give her bad news.

“Tell me, Rey,” she presses softly. “Why are you here? What’s got you so worked up?” Rey exhales heavily, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“I need…” She gulps again. “I need to tell you about something. Something…” Her shoulders droop as she shakes her head, seeming to admonish herself. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.” Leia stiffens, fighting back a faint sense of dread

“Ok,” she says slowly. “What do you need to tell me?” She rests her hands lightly in her lap, waiting.

Rey takes a deep, measured breath, furrowing her eyebrows. She stares intently into nothing for a minute before parting her lips to speak.

“There’s just—” She leans over to rest her forearms on her knees, looking down and not at Leia. “There’s so much to tell. I don’t know what to say, where to start.” She wrings her hands, churning anxiously. 

Leia observes for a moment.  

“Can I give you some advice?” She offers, tilting her head. Rey finally looks up.

“Please,” she whispers. Leia straightens, squaring her shoulders.

“Start with the worst part.” She leans in a bit. “The hardest thing you have to tell me. Then everything after it will be easier.” Rey nods, then looks back down at the floor.

“I-” She starts but immediately stops.

“I, um…” She gulps, shifting in her chair.

Leia waits on the edge of her seat, growing impatient, a bad feeling at the pit of her stomach. She resists the urge to lash out, tell the girl to get to with it.

“I-” Rey tenses as though bracing for an impact. “I’m in love with your son,” she chokes out the words.

For a moment, the sound seems to suck out of the room, leaving nothing but a silent vacuum.

“ _What?_ ” Leia jerks back. She must not have heard that correctly…

Rey gulps.

“H-have you ever heard of a Force bond?” She asks weakly, glancing up.

“Uh…” Leia brings a hand to her head, disoriented. “Yes,” she answers, rubbing her temple. “It’s like a… psychic connection, right?”

“Kind of, except…” Rey looks down. “This one’s _much_ stronger.” At this, she scrunches her face, hunching over and drawing her shoulders in. The next instant, she bursts into tears. 

“ _I’m sorry_.” She can barely speak through her sobbing. “ _I’m so sorry_. I should have told you. I should have told you before I let it get this far. But now I’m here and there’s no going back and I just—” She croaks, a sob caught in her throat. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. _I don’t even know if I can trust myself anymore_ …” Rey slides from the chair, sinking to the floor.

Leia instinctively slides with her, meeting her with an embrace. She kneels, stunned, as Rey cries into her shoulder. She’s still confused, trying to process what she’s hearing.

Leia closes her eyes, shutting out the world around her to focus on her heart, focus on that energy inside her.

And just like that, all of the pieces snap together.

The fact that she’s found some of her son’s decisions of late to be downright _bizarre_. 

The fact that she feels like she’s seeing glimmers of him, _her_ boy, Ben Solo.

Her confession to Rey that she’s proud of him, that she still hopes to see her boy again.

Rey’s sudden need share something afterwards, the way she froze in fear.

Just like she did that time Leia teased her about the man who had her asking what love feels like through the Force.

It all washes over her, the realization, what’s been happening, what it means.

Leia bows her head, tightening her hold on Rey. She rocks her gently, trying to give her some comfort, all the while feeling a swell in her chest. She fights a smile so hard her face hurts, but she can’t stop it, can’t keep her emotions from manifesting on her lips.

She takes a deep breath, then lets go, lets herself smile even as she holds a crying Rey in her arms, tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes, a few escaping down cheeks that seem to glow.

She lifts her head, her expression unmistakable, a reflection of the joy in her heart and something else, something even deeper…

 _Hope_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be November 10th. I'm sorry for another three week wait. I hope I can go back to posting every two weeks after this! As always, thank you for reading!


	27. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey runs into trouble while scouting out a route for a slave rescue

The forest is alive with sound.

The staccato call of two long-necked birds, flitting from tree to tree. The chirping of insects, rising and falling in a kind of song. The rustling of animals as they scurry by, foraging for food.    

Rey stalks through the woods, the earth crunching under her boots, moist soil covered by a bed of dead leaves, twigs, rocks, and all manner of flora.

Her eyes are sharp and observant, taking in the sights and sounds, both enjoying them and assessing them, filtering everything she sees through a checklist in her mind.

It’s thick here. The trees are full and close together, the ground covered with brush and vines.

It’s not ideal.

On the one hand, they’ll have more cover. On the other, it will slow them down, make it easier for the slavers to catch up to them and more likely that someone will get lost.

The target for this rescue is fifty, more if they can. Fifty people, tired and underfed, trekking through the forest at first light. They’ll be scared, on edge, moving through unfamiliar surroundings.

It would be better if there more space between trees, less brush to push through. They’d move more quickly and in a larger pack, reduce the chance of someone getting separated.

Rey can only hope that someone else finds a thinner area of the forest, anything more open than this. She’s got four other scouts out here. Surely _one of them_ will find a better route.

But she can’t count on it. For all she knows, this _is_ the thinnest area of the forest. She needs to keep her focus, keep imagining the escape in her mind, what they’d need to watch out for.

She reaches for the navigational device in her pouch, checking the distance to their rendezvous point.

Three and quarter miles to go. Close to halfway.

She looks up and around as she tucks the device back in the pouch, searching for a distinctive marker or any sign that this part of the forest is different than where she started.

But there’s nothing.

It seems like the same mass of trees, so high and thick with verdure they blot out most of the sky, the light trickling through only in thin streams.

Rey sighs and returns her gaze forward, brushing past a layer of vines hanging from a branch above. Suddenly, she starts to slow, squinting.

She can’t tell for sure, but it seems to get brighter not far ahead. _Much_ brighter, as if the forest abruptly ends. Maybe it opens into a field…?

She picks up her pace, brushing away greenery as she weaves between the trees, her pulse quickening in anticipation. She hops over a log, eyes trained forward, eager to make out what she’s seeing.

She slows as she gets closer, her heart sinking as the view gradually comes into focus.  

That’s an open space alright. But it’s no field.

It’s a ravine.   

Her pace tapers to a trudge as she approaches the edge of an abrupt drop, at least thirty feet deep. She halts, sighing heavily as she takes in the scene.

The ravine is wide, so wide that even the tallest tree in the forest couldn’t bridge the gap. It stretches on indefinitely to the left and to the mountain on the right. It’s covered in green, vines crawling up the steep sides, curling around roots jutting out of the earth. Under any other circumstance, she might think it was beautiful.

But right now, it’s death knell.

No.

This won’t work.

They can’t take the rescues this way. In fact, depending on how far the ravine goes, they might just have to rethink their whole strategy for this one…

Rey crosses her arms as she mulls over this unpleasant development. She lets out a puff of air, examining the ravine closely, reluctant to give up just yet.

If it’s as long as it appears to be, perhaps there’s a bridge somewhere. Then again, if there is, that’s the first place the slavers will go when they realize a chunk of their property is missing. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if they have someone guarding the bridge, keeping an eye out for thieves and escapees.

She purses her lips, thinking.

What about the mountain?

She twists to the right.

It’s not far, a little over mile by the looks of it. There could be a path along the side or even a tunnel. It’s worth a look.

Rey turns away from the ravine, walking back into the forest a few feet, then changing direction. She stalks towards the mountain, tepidly hopeful she’ll find a way to make this work.

And yet, she has a gut feeling this is a lost cause. Try as she might, she can’t imagine a way through or around the mountain that wouldn’t pose considerable danger to their rescues. They need a straight shot, something quick and less complicated.

She walks forward briskly but less purposefully than before, slowly accepting the reality of the situation, that it all depends on what the other scouts find. She begins to observe the forest more for its beauty than its potential as an escape route, noting all kinds of plants she’s never seen before, many of them brilliant colors, a deep red, a bright yellow.

Before long her mind begins to drift, her surroundings fading to the background as her thoughts meander down a familiar path, almost involuntarily, like on autopilot.

She just can’t stop thinking about it. She can hardly pass an idle minute without going back to it, running through the scenes in her mind.

There’s still so much to process.

They’d talked for hours. _Hours_. Though the night and into the morning, only stopping because both of them could hardly keep their eyes open. They cried together, laughed together, worried together. They shared stories, fears, hopes, dreams.  

Rey pictures the woman’s face in her mind, her bright eyes, that crinkle just under them, her features animated with emotion, sometimes soft and sad, other times sharp and focused.

It’s strange to think that it wasn’t too long ago that Rey thought of her as “the General.”

Now, she’s Leia. She’s not some tall, imposing figure but a human being, just as fragile and vulnerable as she is resilient and strong.

Rey was surprised to find out exactly how human Leia really is. The woman always seems like steel in public, so confident and decisive, like she’s never second-guessed herself a day in her life.

But, of course, she has.

Leia doubts. She worries. She feels just as lost and lonely as Rey does sometimes, disconnected from everyone around her by lifetime of extremes— legendary victories offset by the darkest tragedies. She defeated the Empire but lost her home. She created a new order only to watch her son rip it all to shreds.

And she carries it all alone, pondering it secretly in her heart.

Leia needed this. She needed it just as much as Rey did, maybe more so. She needed to connect with someone she can’t hide from, someone who has an inkling of what it’s like to hope even in the most desperate situations, to love even through the bitterest differences.

At this, the conversation replays in Rey’s mind, the one she keeps going back to. Out of hours upon hours of revelation, encouragement, and advice, this is what she remembers the most, the thing that lingers.

 “Do you think it’s wrong?” Rey had asked tentatively. “To love him? To just want to be with him, in spite of everything?” She tensed, bracing herself for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

But Leia surprised her.

“Rey…” She’d scoffed softly, leaning in closer. “I’ve spent a lifetime loving people I deeply disagree with on both a personal and ideological level. It’s not wrong.” She shook her head firmly. “You can’t help who you love. And you can’t help but be drawn to the ones you love, to want be with them even when there’s so much that divides you. In fact…” She leaned back as her voice trailed off, her eyes growing dark with thought. 

“Sometimes I wonder…” She mused. “I wonder if opposites attract for a reason. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of finding balance.”

“What do you mean?” Rey asked eagerly.

Leia didn’t answer straight away but instead looked to the floor, mulling over the question. When she finally spoke, her voice was distant, her gaze soft and faraway.

“It’s the easiest thing, you know.” She tilted her head back. “To see the opposing side as the villain, as something so wrong it’s beyond comprehension why anyone would ever think that way. And when you see people like that, you don’t engage with them. Why would you? Even just talking to them, entertaining their ideas, feels like a violation of your values. _But_ …” Leia looked at Rey as she articulated the word.

“When you add love to the equation, things are different. You’re willing to listen. You’re willing to consider the other’s perspective, to try to understand why they believe what they believe, why they do what they do. And then, as time passes, as the love grows, what once seemed just wrong looks more… _complex_.” Leia chose the word carefully, drawing it out. Then she smiled to herself. “That’s when you really start to change.”

Rey remembers how her heart fluttered at this, how it seemed to be exactly the answer she was looking for, what she needed to hear more than anything.  

But then Leia abruptly sat up, reacting to Rey’s emotions, her eyes wide and urgent. 

“That’s not to say love can mend all differences,” she added hastily. “I’m sorry to tell you that it can’t.” She shook her head. “Sometimes people don’t change. And there are some divisions that are truly irreconcilable.” She leaned in close, her gaze kind but with an undertone of pain.

“Rey,” she started gently. “I’m sure you know how I happy I’ve been to hear what you’ve told me today. I-” Her voice suddenly broke. “I haven’t felt this kind of hope in a _long_ time.” She couldn’t contain her smile as she spoke, her eyes glistening with tears. But in the next instant her face fell, suddenly growing solemn. “But based on everything I’ve heard, it’s important that you…” She gulped. “And _I_ … prepare for the possibility that things may not turn out the way we want them to.”

Rey’s heart drops at the memory of Leia’s warning, the uncomfortable truth hitting her just as heavily now as it did then. She absently brushes past the vines in front of her, feeling that tension well inside, an agonizing frustration that’s all too familiar.  

She’d thought for sure that talking with Leia would help her see things more clearly. And it did, in some respects. Yet she still feels hopelessly unclear on the _one thing_ she wants to know more than anything.

How is she supposed to handle this mess?

She can’t control how she feels. She wants him _so badly_ , more and more every time she sees him. But how can she give into her desire when he still expects her to be something she’s not? How can she let herself be vulnerable with him when he’s still the Supreme Leader of the First Order?   

Even Leia didn’t have answers to these questions.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Rey.” She’d shook her head firmly. “To be honest, I’m not even sure there’s a right thing to do, at least not in an objective sense. But I _can_ give you some perspective.”

“So, what would _you_ do?” Rey leaned forward intently. “In a situation like this?” Leia sighed as she looked up to the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I _hope_ …” she tilted her head, “that I’d be open to listening, to seeking a middle ground. But I also hope that I wouldn’t compromise my core values, that I’d stand firm on the things that matter most. And regardless of what choice I made, whether I gave into my feelings or not, I hope I’d be honest with myself about why I made that choice.” At this, Leia glanced at Rey, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Rey asked defensively. Leia pursed her lips.

“I think…” She began cautiously, “that you have _very_ good reason for being wary of this relationship. But I also think, _mayb_ e…” She paused as if considering whether or not to continue. “That there’s another reason you’re not giving in to what you feel, perhaps a reason you’re not entirely aware of…?” She raised an eyebrow. Rey looked back, guarded, but said nothing.

“Tell me,” Leia continued with a steady gaze. “Is this your first time being in love?” Rey answered with a short nod. Leia nodded back in response, then clasped her hands in her lap. “Is it like you thought it would be?” 

At this, Rey looked away, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain eye contact.

“It’s…” She gulped. “Different. More complicated, I guess.”

“How?” Leia probed.

“It’s just…” Rey struggled to find the right words. “I never realized… I didn’t expect…” She tensed, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “It would scare me,” she finished in a low voice.

“Why does it scare you?” Leia asked quietly.

“ _Because_.” Rey abruptly snapped her head up. “I never thought I’d fall in love with the _Supreme Leader of the First Order_.”

“And if he weren’t the Supreme Leader,” Leia responded without skipping a beat. “If he were just an average person, you wouldn’t feel this way, you wouldn’t feel scared?” Rey looked away again.

“I…” She squirmed. “I’m not sure.”

“Can you,” Leia asked tentatively, “think of a reason why you might be?” Rey shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I guess… I guess maybe… I’d still worry…” She let her voice trail off, unsure how to finish. Leia waited patiently, never pushing her once. “I might still worry about getting hurt,” she finally whispered.

“ _Rey._ ” She looked up and was met by dark eyes brimming with compassion.

“I’ve been around for a few years now,” Leia started with a wry smile. “And I’ve been in love more than once. I’m sorry to tell you… I got hurt every time. In fact, I don’t know a single person who’s fallen in love and _not_ gotten hurt. Even in the strongest relationships I know, people still get hurt sometimes. It’s just part of being in love.” Rey’s heart sunk as she heard this.

“ _But that’s not the only part_.” Leia leaned in closer, eyes bright with intensity. “The thing that makes love so scary, that causes you to get hurt, is the _exact same thing_ that makes love so precious, that bonds people together in the most meaningful way imaginable.”

“What thing?” Rey whispered.

“Opening your heart,” Leia answered. “Letting yourself be _utterly_ vulnerable, more vulnerable than you’ll ever be.” Rey gulped, surprised to feel tears pushing at the backs of her eyes.

“Rey,” Leia said her name tenderly, lifting a hand to her face. “I don’t know if it’s right for you to give in to what you feel for my son. But I do know that you shouldn’t let fear make your choice for you.” At this, a few tears escaped down Rey’s cheeks. “Being in love is a _wonderful_ thing,” Leia beamed. “And I want you to experience it one day, _all of it_ , whether it’s with my son or someone else.”

As these words echo in Rey’s mind, she starts to slow without realizing it, soon halting outright, standing silently in the middle of the forest. She looks down, but doesn’t really see the ground below. She’s lost in her thoughts, the memory of Leia’s hand on her cheek, the strength of her emotions as she spoke— her confidence, her compassion, her hope.

Rey lets herself linger there, linger in that moment and everything it made her feel. Warm. Connected. Terrified. Ashamed. Uncertain.

As she does, she can’t stop the thought from crossing her mind.

Sometimes she misses her life on Jakku.

She never thought in _a million years_ she’d ever think such a thing. She was so lonely there. So desperate for companionship, for love. All she ever wanted was to belong with someone.

But she never realized what that would feel like, all the complicated emotions, how hard it would be.

Lately, she’s imagined going back in time, coming face to face with her former self so she can urge her to enjoy her simple life while she can, embrace the monotony, the boredom, the comforting regularity.

Get up. Scavenge. Trade. Eat. Imagine. Sleep. Do it all again the next day.

No galactic wars to worry about. No Force. No bond. No Ben. No grand destiny looming vaguely overhead. Just survival, pure and simple.

Those were the days…

Rey sighs and takes a step forward, her focus slowly returning to her surroundings, the forest, the trees, the vines, the brush at her feet. She looks up and around, trying to concentrate on the physical world, keep herself from withdrawing into her mind, into incessantly analyzing the complex problems that have taken over her life.

She notices the forest seems darker now. She looks up to the sky but sees little beyond the canopy of green overhead.

Hopefully, it’s just a few thick clouds and not a storm brewing. The storms here aren’t as bad as they are on Dorajan, but they can get pretty nasty. Worse comes to worst, she’ll hide somewhere in the mountain until it passes.

Rey picks up her pace, weaving around trees and stepping over thick logs rotting on the forest floor. She moves quickly, taking in the sights and sounds.

This forest is loud, in more ways than one. It’s not just all the birds and insects and small animals constantly making noise but the visual overload, a variety of flora absolutely _everywhere_ , all over the ground, growing on trees, hanging from branches. Most of it’s green, but a lot of it’s brilliantly colored, bright hues she never knew existed in nature.

There’s a long, red flower shaped like a bell she keeps seeing on some of the vines. Then there are small clusters of yellow plants made of tiny, heart-shaped petals all over the ground. Then there’s—

Whoa.

Rey suddenly slows, her eyes fixed on the bottom of a knotted tree just ahead.

Now _that_ is something she’s never seen before. It almost doesn’t look real…

Rey approaches curiously, transfixed by the strange mass nestled next to a large tree root.

It’s a flower, maybe? Or a bush?

Whatever it is, it’s blue, a dark blue that seems to shimmer, creating a glossy haze all around it, obscuring the details of the plant. Rey can’t even make out its shape until she kneels just in front it.

She’d call it a flower but only because she doesn’t know how else to describe it. It’s dense with small petals tightly arranged in circular patterns the size of her fist. The stems are short, only rising a few inches from the ground, each one harboring five or six circles, bunched tightly together with what looks like small, red berries in the middle. There are about eight clusters, though it’s difficult to say for sure. The shimmering makes the petals seem to blend together, leaving only the berries with a clear, individual shape.

Rey lifts a hand, extending it slowly. She reaches for the blue mass, half expecting her fingers to fall right through to the ground as if it were only a holo. But no, her skin brushes against the foliage, smooth and firmer than she anticipated. She grazes the clusters lightly, moving from one circular pattern to another, feeling to cool kiss of the petals against her skin.

Finally, her fingers drift to a trio of red berries bunched in the middle of one of the clusters. She barely touches one before she hears a soft pop.

Rey jumps a bit, startled. The berry disappears before her eyes, leaving nothing but a thin, yellow mist wafting to the sky. She breathes it in, surprised to find a bitter undertone to the sweet smell.

_Pop!_

Now the second berry dissolves, releasing that same yellow mist with a bittersweet scent.

_Pop!_

Now the third berry dissolves, a small, yellow cloud beginning to form a few inches above the flower. Rey watches curiously, searching for any trace of the red berries. But there’s nothing, as if they were never there at all.

_Pop!_

Rey’s head jerks to the right to find yellow mist drifting up from two berries at the center of another cluster.

_Pop! Pop!_

The two berries disappear simultaneously and Rey instantly rises from her crouched position, starting to back away.

_Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!_

More berries dissolve, creating an increasingly thicker cloud of yellow mist in their wake.

_Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!_

Rey continues to walk backwards, both startled and entranced, as every berry on the plant self-destructs, the yellow mist blending with the shimmer of the petals. Once she feels like she’s a safe distance, she stops, watching the mist gradually dissipate.

She steps to the side, following a vague instinct to get some distance from the strange, blue mass. Once she’s a few meters away, she turns, refocusing her attention on her destination. She glances up at the sky, trying to make out any storm clouds above, but she can’t see much through all the green.  

Rey picks up her pace as she stalks forward, determined not to let herself get distracted. She brushes away a thick layer of vines and hops over a large log but nearly loses her balance when she lands, her right arm shooting out to steady herself on a tree.

She stands still for a moment, regaining equilibrium, then continues on a little more carefully, focusing on each step. As she waves past branches heavy with vines, she notices the forest start to change. It’s subtle at first but grows, the slightest shimmer, a glossy haze over everything. Colors and shapes begin to bleed in to one another, trees and vines squirming as if they were alive.

Rey becomes confused, her heartbeat quickening. She tries to focus on something, _anything_ —a flower, a leaf, the root of a tree— but she can’t seem to make out any individual shapes. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, hoping to clear her vision but instead it only gets worse.

It’s not just her sight. The sounds all around her seem to be getting louder, the call of birds, once musical and faraway, like screeches right next to her ear. The rising and falling hum of insects sounds more like a roar, a constant droning in the air. She lunges forward but promptly trips, her palms flying out to catch her as she crashes to the ground.

_What is going on?_

Then the realization hits.  

Uh oh.

Is she… _poisoned_?

She trembles, pushing up from the earth, fumbling for her pouch.

She needs to call for help. _Now_.

Suddenly, a flock of birds flies out of a tree overhead, an explosion of flapping and shrieking. Rey instantly whips her hands to her ears. She presses her palms into the sides of her head, trying to dull the sound, but it’s no use. The cacophony just gets louder, somehow piercing _inside_ her mind.

Without thinking, she bursts forward, racing at full speed as though she could somehow outrun the ear-splitting assault. Her hands still cover her ears she runs through a shimmering mass rushing by like stars at lightspeed. She feels sharp edges scratch her arms and face as she flies through the forest, barely feeling her feet just under her.

Suddenly, she trips and finds her body flung helplessly down a slope. She tumbles for what feels like forever before she finally rolls to a stop, bruised and trembling.

She gasps for air but can only manage short, shallow breaths. She hoists herself up to her knees and starts desperately patting her body, feeling for her pouch.

But there’s nothing.

She looks up and around, trying to search for it, but she’s immediately hit by a wave of nausea, everything shimmering in a bleeding mass of color.

In the next instant, a shrieking explosion of sound splits through her skull, and she whips her hands to her ears, dropping to the ground.

A minute later, she collapses, curling into a ball, pulling her legs into her chest. Shimmering colors dance in waves all around her, creating the sensation of movement, like she’s on water. She grows more and more queasy, a metallic taste creeping into her throat. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on her breath, counting every sharp, labored inhale.

 _One_.

She sucks in a breath.

 _Two_.

She does it again.

 _Three_.

She keeps going like this until she feels still, on solid ground. She keeps her eyes closed, limiting the sensory overload to just sound, the thunderous roar of millions of insects droning inside her head, accented by screeching and thrashing. She can’t quite feel her face, but she’s sure she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tightens her arms around her legs and tries to focus on something, anything, other than the ear-splitting agony.

It goes on forever. She lies there forever, curled in a tight ball, crying softly.

Then, out of nowhere, the roar abates, not disappearing but withdrawing from her mind, receding to the background. She feels something grip her shoulder and roll her over.

“Rey!” A disembodied voice calls out her name.

“Rey!” She opens her eyes, squinting. A vague form hovers above her, a rippling, black outline.

“Rey, what’s going on?!” That sounds like Ben’s voice. Or a phantom of Ben’s voice. Maybe she’s hallucinating…

“Rey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” A tannish blob that looks like a face descends towards her. Two dark holes peer at her from above as something warm covers her cheeks. Rey tries to part her lips, to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth so she can speak.

“Are you real?” She finally manages to ask.

“ _Yes, I’m real!_ ” That’s definitely Ben’s voice. It’s got that distinctive tone, an angry kind of concern.

Rey releases her legs, letting them fall to the side. She blinks a few times, the tannish blob gradually taking on Ben’s features.

“I-” She tries to concentrate on his face, ignore the dizzying shimmer of colors all around. “I think I’m poisoned.”

“By what?” He backs away for a moment, the warmth at her cheeks disappearing, then descends again, resting a palm on her forehead, feeling her temperature.

“A flower.” She can make out his eyes now, dark with concern. “A blue flower. It had red berries…”

“Did it seem hazy, not real, like a holo?” He strokes back her hair.

“It shimmered. Now everything shimmers. And it’s so loud, _so, so_ _loud_ …” She cringes, shaking her head. The concern in his eyes softens, like he’s relieved.

“You’re not poisoned.” He pulls away, his outline wavy, blending with the colors all around. “You’re drugged.”

“How do you know?” She squints at him, starting to feel nauseous again, like she’s bobbing on water.

“Because I know that plant. The First Order uses a derivative of it for interrogation.”

Rey immediately groans.

“Of course you do.” She rolls onto her side, closing her eyes and drawing her knees back into her chest.

“It’s not harmful.” She focuses on his voice just above. “It only affects the mind. It’ll wear off. How many berries did you breathe in?”

“I’m not sure,” she mumbles. “Three to four, I think. Maybe more.”

“Could be worse,” he responds. “It probably won’t last more than six hours.”

“ _SIX HOURS!?_ ” Rey immediately slaps her hands over her ears, cringing at the shriek of her own voice.  

“ _Rey_.” She feels his hand on her forehead again, stroking back her hair. “It won’t be like this the whole time. The drug has two phases. The first will wear off in about an hour, then you’ll feel more relaxed. It’s why we use it for interrogation. It terrifies, then makes people compliant, loose-lipped. How long has it been since you breathed it in?”

“Forever.”

He grunts.

“It only feels that way,” he assures gently, still stroking her hair. “But it _will_ end. You just have to get through this first part.” She whimpers.

“It’s ok.” His voice is soothing, descending closer to her ear. It’s the only thing that sounds normal, that doesn’t seem to roar. “You’re alright. You just need to get somewhere safe and wait it out.” He shifts her, rolling her on her back then reaching under her body. She starts to rise, becoming weightless, but the moment she does, her stomach flips and a metallic taste shoots up her throat. She gags, holding back vomit.

“ _Stop,_ ” she barely manages to whisper. “Please stop.” She feels the earth beneath her again. “I don’t want to move. I want to be still.”

“So, you’re just going to stay here?” He slips his arms out from under her.

“Yes.” She rolls onto her side, curling into a ball.

“In the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes.”

“For six hours?”

“Yes.”

She tenses, squeezing her legs tightly as the roar of insects rises in the absence of his voice.

“Those look like storm clouds overhead.” She relaxes when she hears him, trying to concentrate on him and only him.   

“Are you going to lay out in the rain?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She scrunches her face, eyes still squeezed shut. 

“Even if it’s a thunderstorm?”

She immediately hisses, in pain just at the idea of being in a storm right now. If birds and bugs are this loud, she can’t even imagine what lightening would sound like… 

“ _Rey_.” He draws out her name. “You can’t be out in a thunderstorm, especially not like this.”

She whimpers, the prospect of being in motion no better than the prospect of being in a storm.

“Is there no one you can call for help?”

“I lost my pouch,” she mumbles, her face buried in her knees.

“Close by?”

“Yes, I think.” Rey winces at a sudden eruption of shrieking birds.

“I’ll be right back.” She hears him start to rise.

“No!” She instantly rolls over, pushing up to her hands and knees and crawling towards him, or at least where she thinks he is.

“ _Don’t go_ ,” she pleads, patting the ground, searching for him. She touches something warm, maybe his knee or his thigh. “ _Please, don’t go_.” Whatever it is, she rests her forehead on it, wrapping her arms around the warmth. “ _Please don’t leave me_.” She clings to him. “It’s better when you’re here, not so loud. Maybe it’s the bond, or something. _Just_ _don’t go_.”

“Shhhhhh.” His voice rolls in like a gentle wave. He strokes her back, a hand resting lightly on her head. “I’m not going to leave you.” She holds in her breath, focusing on his thumb caressing her hair. “But you can’t stay here. The storm’s going to start any minute now. You either need to call for help or let me take you somewhere safe.”

“I don’t want to move.” She shakes her head, her forehead brushing against his thigh.

“Then I need to find your pouch.”

“ _Don’t go_.” She tightens her hold on him.

“ _Rey_.” His voice is gentle but with an undertone of warning. “You have to move. I’m going to pick you up now, ok?”

“No.” She shakes her head again. He slips his hand from her head and grips one of her arms wrapped around his leg.

“I’m sorry, but you have to. Come on.”

“No.” She resists him.

“ _Rey._ ”

Suddenly, a skull-splitting crack rips through her ears, and she could wear she feels them start to bleed. She gasps, releasing Ben and whipping her hands to her head, fully expecting to feel sticky liquid running along her cheeks.

“Time to go.” He shifts, moving beside her.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She squeezes her eyes shut, covering her ears with her palms.

“Yes.” His hands curl around her wrists, pulling them away from her head. “I need you to hold on to me and focus on the sound of my heartbeat. Can you do that?”

She moans, reluctant but resigned to the necessity of this. He grips her gently, pulling her upright and drawing her into his chest, her ear close to his heart.

“Do you hear that?” She melts into his warmth, keeping her eyes closed, trying to block out everything but the steady rhythm she hears inside him. After a moment, she nods.

“Good. Now focus on that and nothing else.” He shifts her up and she wraps an arm around his neck, hardening her core in anticipation. She sucks in a breath when she feels herself rise, gritting her teeth as a wave of nausea hits.

They start into motion and Rey’s stomach flips, that metallic taste creeping in again. She grips folds of fabric as his chest, burying her face in his shoulder, focusing on him, his life force, trying to keep the nausea at bay. They bob up and down, but she just concentrates on that steady rhythm, sensing it more than she actually hears it.

Suddenly, a skull-splitting crack breaks her focus and she cringes, whimpering.

“It’s alright.” She feels his voice resonate in his chest. “You’re alright.”

He moves quickly but time crawls, every second a labor of discomfort, nausea churning in her belly, a constant assault of sound at her ears, the lightening worst of all. Every time it cracks, she feels like her head is that much closer to exploding, a searing pain that rages and throbs, pushing violently against the confines of her skull.

Her only comfort is him— his warmth, his heartbeat, his voice, low and soothing. She clings to him like she’s holding on for dear life, like if she let go she’d just fly away, whipped up into the brewing storm.

She twitches when she feels a drop of liquid land on her cheek and trickle down her neck. Soon, it’s joined by another, then another, then another.

_Drip, drip, drip, drip._

It seems like she hears each raindrop, sometimes a splat, other times a blip, sometimes a dull tap.

_Drip, drip, drip, drip._

They’re slow at first— one here, another there— but they gradually pick up, individual drops merging into a chorus.

_Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip._

_CRACK!_

All at once, the chorus crescendos into a roar, ten times louder than the roar of the insects, pounding, pounding, pounding _relentlessly_. She grips Ben even tighter.

“You’re alright.” The roar recedes every time she hears his voice. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”

She nods weakly, her face still buried in his shoulder.

As the rain continues to pound, she starts to feel heavy, soaked through with liquid, weighing her down. She’s not sure how Ben’s still carrying her. She must be a thousand kilos, absorbing every drop that hits her skin, filling her up with more and more weight.  

 

Suddenly, she dips down, her stomach flipping in response, and all at once, the roar changes, taking on the quality of an echo, more expansive, reverberating. She no longer feels the relentless downpour on her skin. Instead, it’s soft and tender, sensitive to the cool air. She shivers and turns her face outward, cracking her eyes open ever so slightly.

An earthy wall, vibrant and squirming, rushes up, overhead, and behind, creating a spinning sensation, like she’s in an X-wing barrel rolling through the sky. She immediately heaves, squeezing her eyes shut.

_Horrible idea. Horrible, horrible idea…_

She determines to keep her eyes closed at all costs as she feels her body descend, laid gently on solid ground, warm arms sliding out from under her. She rolls to her side, curling into a ball, drawing her legs into her chest. She shivers a bit, slowly adjusting to the temperature, the roar filling the expansive space, a dome of sound droning all around.

_CRACK!_

Rey flinches, whipping her palms to her ears, crying softly.

It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt, the way the lightening rips through her skull, seeming to take pieces of her with it. The roar of the rain is welcome by comparison, constant, predictable, something she can manage.

But the lightening?

It comes out of nowhere, a surprise attack she can’t anticipate, and she waits in dread for it, wincing sometimes just when she _thinks_ it might hit. She presses her palms into her ears, trying to armor herself against it, but it’s no use. Nothing stops it, nothing dulls it, nothing makes it better.

_Where is Ben?_

“Ben…?” She whimpers.

“I’m here.” His voice is far away at first, but gets closer. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” She feels a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to move you upright. Are you ready?”

She nods weakly.

He slips his hands just under her arms, guiding her up slowly. Then he shifts, settling on the ground and pulling her back into a cocoon of warmth. She slides her palms from her ears and he wraps his arms around her.  

She stops shivering, withdrawing into the comfort of him, the roar dying away just a little as she does.

_CRACK!_

She jumps, letting out a small cry.

“Shhhh.” He tightens his hold, his lips just next to her ear. “It’s alright. You’re alright. Just hold on. This will part be over soon.”  

She nods, concentrating on his voice, trying to believe him, but all the while feeling weak and desperate, certain that this will _never_ end, that she’ll be like this forever.

“You’re going to make it through this, Rey,” he tells her, like he read her mind. “Plenty of people have. Some even do it intentionally.” She tries to scoff, but it comes out more like a gasp.

“Why would _anyone_ do this on purpose?”

“For recreation,” he answers. “Or religious reasons.”

“Idiots,” she mutters under her breath.

_CRACK!_

Rey hisses and jerks, then goes limp, her shoulders heaving lightly as fresh tears stream down her cheeks.

“I can’t do this,” she weeps, shaking her head. “I just can’t…”

“ _Yes, you can_ ,” he whispers. “ _You’re strong_. You’re a survivor. You’ve made it through worse than this.” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shhhh.” He rocks her gently. “You’ll make it through. I’ll help you. What can I do?”

“J-just talk to me,” she stammers.

“About what?”

“ _Anything_ ,” she answers breathlessly. “I don’t care. Tell me about the idiots who do this on purpose.”

“Ok.” He rubs her arms as he pauses for a few moments. “Have you heard of the Narqois?”

Rey shakes her head.

“They’re a sentient species, tree-dwellers.” She takes a slow inhale, focusing on him. “Their home world is Narq, in the Colonies. It’s where the plant originates from.”

“What’s it called?” She tenses, sure another crack of lightening will hit any second now.

“It goes by several names.” She concentrates on his voice. “I can’t pronounce the word in the native language, but in Basic it’s called shadow moss. It gets the name from its appearance, how it doesn’t look real, like it’s just a reflection of something else.”

“That’s what I thought, at first,” she murmurs.

“The Narqois revere it as a gift from their ancestral gods.” She begins to relax as he continues. “They believe it was sent to them as a means to commune with the natural world.” Rey lets out a weak half-laugh.  

“By commune, do they mean be assaulted by?”

“In a way, yes.” He shifts slightly. “The idea is that it heightens your experience of nature, all of it— the violence, the harshness, but also the peace, the calm. This _will_ get better, Rey.” His lips descend to her ear. “ _I promise you_. The second phase is much easier, pleasant even. People who do this for recreation endure the first part just to get there.”

“Why? What’s so good about it?”

“A lot of different things.” He straightens again. “Depends on your perspective. Some say it’s just relaxing, the absence of all worry and fear. Others say they feel like they’re outside themselves, seeing their life from afar. Some even claim they achieve a higher state of being, a god-like ability to reflect beyond the normal bounds of consciousness.”

“Sounds… interesting.” Rey squirms a bit. “But not worth all this.”

_CRACK!_

 Rey jumps at the sound of lightening, but is surprised to find it’s not quite as painful as it once was, less skull-splitting, more distant.

“So, have you ever done this before?” She relaxes against him, taking a deep breath.

“Once,” he replies, his tone guarded.

“On purpose?”

He sighs, then says nothing. A few seconds pass.

“Not exactly,” he finally answers.

“What does that mean?” She knits her eyebrows.

“It means…” He starts slowly. “That I didn’t know what it was at the time. Snoke told me it would show me who I was, so I took it. Then he dropped me in a war zone.” Rey instantly gasps.

“That’s _terrible_.”

“I survived,” he says dryly. “It wasn’t easy, though. The effects are worse for Force sensitives. They sense more so they feel more. It makes it hard to control Force power, to detect things you normally would.”

“I’ve noticed,” she groans. Then she tilts her head, suddenly realizing something. “Actually, this was the first time I didn’t feel the bond before it happened.” He grunts, but doesn’t comment.

The rain continues to roar, but it’s less deafening than it was. Rey lets out a long exhale, noticing that she’s starting to feel tingly, warm all over despite the fact that she’s still wet from the rain.

“So, what was the second phase like for you?” She asks. He immediately stiffens.

“I don’t remember,” he answers curtly.  She presses her lips together.

 _That_ was a lie.

Her Force senses may be overwhelmed, but she can still read him, feel that distinct internal grating. Under any other circumstance, she would challenge him about this, but she’s too exhausted to attempt such a thing right now. Instead, she wonders what he might be hiding, what about his experience of the so-called ‘pleasant phase’ made him want to bury it.

Maybe it _does_ grant one a greater ability to reflect. And maybe he came to some conclusions about his life he didn’t like…

Rey mulls over this for a few minutes before it occurs to her that she’s actually able to think now, not simply endure. The effects of the plant must be shifting, moving on. Maybe she can open her eyes?

She lifts her lids cautiously.

Her vision is blurry at first but soon sharpens. She’s relieved to find she can make out individual shapes. There’s still a slight shimmer over everything but no movement, no squirming objects or bleeding colors. She looks up and around, taking in the scene.

They’re in cave, in the mountain presumably. She surprised to find it isn’t as dark as she might expect, light pouring in from outside. Maybe the storm is starting to pass?

The ceiling is high, quite a few meters above, the earthy walls curving upward into a dome shape. There’s some vegetation on the ground, but it’s mostly dirt, clumpy and soft by the looks of it. The opening is large, rain spraying several feet inside, but they’re far away from it, seated in the back of the cave. She notices a pile of black fabric not far away, Ben’s coat probably. She glances down to see that his arms are bare.

“It’s getting better, isn’t it?” He interrupts her inspection. She nods a couple of times. 

“I told you,” he says smugly. “The change happens fast, in a matter of minutes. Now you just need to _relax._ ” He rubs her arms a couple of times before bringing a hand to her forehead, tilting her head back against him. “Sit back and relax,” he whispers.

She does as he says, loosening her muscles, taking deep, intentional breaths.

A crack of lightening sounds outside and Rey jumps but is actually relieved to hear it, to confirm she perceives it at a normal volume. She sighs, grateful to have her eyes and ears back, and watches the rain as it begins to ease off, the heavy downpour slowing to light and steady stream.

The cave shimmers all around, a slight gloss over everything, not nauseating but actually quite beautiful. It’s as though she can see gradients of texture and color she’s never noticed before. 

She leans against Ben, actually enjoying the sights and sounds, the weight of his arms wrapped around her. She feels so warm, strangely warm. It’s partially him but there’s something else too, a glow beneath her skin. It’s so calming, so peaceful.

And it’s not just her body.

Her mind is even, detached. There’s something about it that reminds her of the memory walk, when Ben put her on a loop to figure out how she froze the slavers in the forest. She feels split, a double consciousness, one experiencing and one observing.

The observing half notices the change, how she feels more content than she has in a very long time. For once, her mind is not her enemy, constantly dogging her with fears and doubts, drawing her into a never-ending circle of self-analysis— questioning, challenging, shaming.

These past few months have been hard. She hasn’t quite felt like herself. She was once so confident, so decisive. But lately, she feels like she can’t even trust her own judgement. Everything’s gotten so complicated…

She misses simplicity. She misses self-certainty. She misses quiet moments where she just sits and enjoys the present.

And she misses him.

Not just being with him but being with him _like this_.

It’s been so long since they’ve just enjoyed one another’s company.

It’s her favorite thing about the bond when she thinks about it. Out of all the times it’s brought them together, the best moments have been ones just like this, where they do something simple together, something so beautifully human.

Sit by a fire. Watch the rain. Play cards. Share things. Embrace.

She wishes the bond could be like that again. She wishes she could go back, before they ever knew they were in love, and just be together like this, without worrying about their conflicting expectations, everything that tears them apart even as they grow closer together.

“I miss this.”

Rey stiffens, surprised at the sound of her own voice.

_Did she just say that out loud?_

“Miss what?” Ben shifts behind her.

Apparently, she did.

“I miss…” She gulps as her voice trails off. She lets out a breath, nice and slow, then closes her eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth, his arms wrapped around her. “I miss when the bond used to be like this.”  

He doesn’t say anything, but she senses his curiosity pique.

“I miss…” she continues, her voice distant, almost dreamy. “Moments like this. Simple moments. Just opportunities to be together, be at peace.”

“You don’t need the bond for that, Rey,” he responds instantly, his lips descending to her ear. “You can have this _whenever you want_.” His breath tickles strands of her hair.

“After I join the First Order, you mean,” she says quietly. He lets out a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling at her back. She sees him in her mind, his head rolling back against the cave wall, his dark eyes annoyed, frustrated. 

But she feels calm, like water so still it reflects everything above it, the images crisp and clear.

“Rey…” He loosens his arms as he sits up a bit, an undertone of exasperation in his voice. “I _don’t care_ if you join the First Order. I mean…” He sputters. “I _do_. But I care about you more. I just want _you_. _Don’t you know that?_ ” His arms tighten around her, his breath at her ear again.

“I do know that,” she whispers. “And I just want you. But wanting each other doesn’t make the conflict go away. It doesn’t erase our differences, our expectations. Sometimes...” she sighs, sinking against him. “Sometimes it feels like nothing ever will. Sometimes it feels like we’ll be like this forever— forever at odds, forever arguing, forever wanting the other to be something they’re not, yet forever…” Her voice trails off as she gazes out of the cave opening, the rain barely visible now, just a glimmer in the forest. “Bonded.”

The cave grows quiet, the only sound a light sprinkle, pitter pattering outside. Rey continues to watch, silent and still, her body warm, her mind at ease in spite of the tension. She tilts her head to the side, still resting against his chest.

“So what?” He abruptly breaks the silence.

She knits her eyebrows, confused by his tone, casually dismissive. She shifts to the side, twisting back to get a look at his face. He looks down at her, shrugging his shoulders.

“So what?” He repeats. “So what if we’re always at odds? That doesn’t mean we can’t be together. Trust me. My parents did it for years. All they ever did was fight.” Rey grunts, turning back towards the cave opening.

“So, what are you suggesting?” She asks wryly. “That we just forget everything else and be together?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” he answers matter-of-factly.

“Well, that’s a sound basis for a relationship,” she remarks with no small amount of sarcasm. “How would that even work?”

“We’ll figure out.” His tone is easy, nonchalant. She scoffs softly, half-amused, half disbelieving.  

“Think about it, Rey,” he goads, shifting back and brushing her hair to the side, exposing her neck. “We could have what we _both_ want, _right now_.” He kisses soft skin just behind to her ear. “We’ll sort everything else out later. Just _be with me_. Forget about the First Order, the Resistance, forget about all of it and _just be with me_.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head at his foolishness, but her body melts, her skin tingles, as he continues to kiss her, soft lips travelling along the curve of her neck. 

“Ben…” She sighs, her shoulders drooping. “I can’t do that. _We_ can’t do that.”

“ _Why not?_ ” He whispers, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. “Wouldn’t that be better than what we’ve been doing? What if this is what we’re _supposed_ to do? Just be together and let everything else fall into place?”

“ _I can’t_.” Her voice breaks as she shakes her head. “ _I just can’t._ ”

 “ _Why?_ ” He nuzzles her neck.

“Because…” She starts weakly, her lips trembling, eyes welling with tears. “ _I’m afraid_.” She barley squeezes out the words.    

“ _What are you afraid of?_ ” His kisses travel to the soft skin behind her ear. Rey gulps as tears spill over her cheeks. She closes her eyes then opens them again, letting the tears fall freely.

“I-” She stammers. “ _I’m afraid you’ll break my heart_.” He instantly freezes.

“ _Rey_.” He whispers her name in disbelief. He brings a hand to her face, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “How do you think I could _ever_ do that?”

“B-by…” The tears continue to stream. “By not changing. Or not changing enough.” He immediately drops his hand, his body slackening.

“You do realize…” She continues brokenly. “That if we do this, that’s where it will end, don’t you? For both of us.” Her lips tremble. “We’ll both end up heartbroken.”

Ben remains behind her, silent and still. After a few seconds, he withdraws, his arms sliding from around her body, the warmth of his chest pulling away.

Rey pushes against the earth with her palms, scooting forward then leaning over to rest her forehead on her knees. She grips her ankles gently as she closes her eyes.

He feels crestfallen. Disheartened. Stricken with a deep, weary disappointment.

But she feels none of these things.

She should. She should feel just as hopeless and frustrated as he does.

But she’s beyond that now. She’s not sure how, but she is.

Instead she feels serene. Open. Accepting.

It’s like her mind has drifted from her body, floating up to the heavens, ascending higher and higher until she can see it all stretched out before her, the path she must take, her destiny.

It’s a strange sensation. Welcome but strange. She’s gotten so used to feeling blind, consumed by conflicting emotions, at a loss to what she should do, how she should manage.

Now she’s calm and certain, separated from the experience of the moment, watching everything from a bird’s eye view.

It’s so clear, so obvious. How could she have missed it? A part of her must have always known. Only now she can finally admit it, accept it. 

It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt _tremendously_ , worse than anything she’s ever felt before. It’ll hurt him too. They’re both going to hurt.

They’ll hurt. They’ll yearn. They’ll agonize. They’ll mourn. They’ll feel broken, betrayed, angry.

And they’ll grow. They’ll cherish. They’ll admire. They’ll care for each other. They’ll open their hearts. They’ll listen. They’ll compromise. They’ll strengthen.

They’ll change.

This is it. This is how it has to happen. There’s no other way.

She has to experience it all. They both do— the agony and the ecstasy.  

Otherwise they can’t get to where they need to be. Otherwise they can’t achieve their destiny, the reason the bond exists, what the Force has in store for them.

It’s time to let go.

Rey takes a deep breath, slow and purposeful, her lungs expanding gently. Then she lets it out, sending all of her fears and reservations with it.

She lifts her head from her knees, her hands slipping from her ankles as she straightens in her seated position. She gazes out of the cave for a moment, the world still glossed in a shimmering coat, soft and peaceful.

Then she shifts, turning around to face Ben.

He’s sitting back against the cave wall, his boots planted firmly on the ground, his legs spread wide in front of him. He glances at her, dark eyes guarded.

She sits back on her calves, hands resting lightly on her lap. First, she studies him, the angles of his face, his dark hair, still wet from the rain, a mass of damp curls. 

His eyes are so expressive, bright in spite of their blackness, flickering with everything he feels— uncertainty, sadness, longing.

She scoots between his legs. He sits up, straightening, his eyebrows drawing together. Rey just stares evenly.

Finally, she lifts a hand, stroking back tufts of hair sticking to his forehead. She lets it drift down to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek.

Then she leans forward, her lips connecting softly with his. They linger, long and slow, as her hand travels back, fingers weaving through his dark curls. She pulls away, only an inch, just enough to look at him.

He’s absolutely _baffled_ , eyes wide, trying to read her. But they soon grow soft, the realization registering, what she means.

She tilts her head, bringing her lips to his once more, for one kiss, two kisses, three. He leans in, lifting a hand to her face, caressing her cheek.

 

In the next instant, she’s on top of him, straddling him, suppressed desire _pouring_ out of her as she takes him hungrily, breathless, barely stopping for oxygen.

He doesn’t skip a beat, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in close. He slides a hand down her body, traveling over her backside and gripping the flesh just under it.

They lose themselves in the passion, the embrace, their lips soft and wet, connecting in a stream of kisses, their bodies pressed against one another, hearts racing.

He pulls her into him, amorous, throbbing, his blood coursing through his veins.

But he suddenly pulls back, panting, his eyes burning with desire but also hesitation, like he just realized something.

“What’s wrong?” She knits her eyebrows. They’re still close, his face only a couple of inches from hers, a hand still gripping her thigh. 

“Have you—” He has trouble catching his breath. “Have you ever noticed how the bond seems to end just when we’re most…” He pauses, glancing up. “Intimate?” His eyes search hers. It takes her a moment before she understands what he means. 

She leans back, her palms sliding to his chest, her gaze slanting to the side. After a few seconds, she shakes her head.

“I think the bond ends when it accomplishes its purpose.” She looks back at him. “You’re the one who says _this_ is its purpose. So maybe…” She purses her lips. “Maybe as long as we’re doing what it wants, what its intended for…?” She raises an eyebrow.

He tilts back, considering this. Then he narrows his eyes with a mischievous glint.

“Let’s find out.” 

He lunges forward, flipping her onto the ground, pinning her arms above her head, covering her with kisses, first her lips, then her jaw, then her neck.

“This…” His lips travel down. “Is a very…” He barely finds the time to speak between kisses. “ _Very_ important experiment.” 

“Is that right?” Rey stifles a giggle, lifting her head.

“ _Yes_.” He captures her lips again, still pinning her wrists. “We have to explore the bond, test its limits.” His hands slide down her arms. “It would be remiss of us not to.” 

“Well then.” She wraps her legs around him. “I would hate to be remiss.” He pulls back.

“Atta girl.” He winks at her.

She barely rolls her eyes before he takes her once more, opening his mouth into hers. She grips dark locks of his hair, pulling him in as his hand travels along the curve of her body, stopping at her waist.

He slips an arm under her back, lifting her from the ground, her arms and legs wrapped around him, their lips locked in passion.

They pant and grasp and moan, consuming one another, giving themselves over to the heat, the connection, the sweet release of pent-up desire, the love and the lust colliding, each magnifying the other as everything they’ve been feeling explodes into physical expression. Their hands, their lips, their tongues all communicate, tell the stories of a thousand sleepless nights, the scenarios they’ve played in their minds as they’ve lied awake, dreaming about exactly _this_.   

Rey’s heart skips a beat when she feels a hand slip under her shirt, sliding along the soft skin of her back. At first, he lingers, gripping her warm flesh. Then, he travels upwards, taking the fabric with him, gradually exposing her stomach, her ribs, her—

“Wait!” 

She gasps for breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

He immediately stops, his hand sliding down her back as he lays her gently on the ground.

She sits up, panting, backing away a few inches. She looks down and not at him, trembling, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head briskly. “I’m sorry. I- I just—”

“It’s ok.”

She glances up, met by dark eyes fixed on hers. He kneels before her, still burning with desire but tempered by concern. And understanding.  

They stare at one another silently, their breath slowing as the heat dies down, ardor transforming into something else, something more serene but just as powerful, a steady glow inside them.

He reaches out, his hand seeking the soft skin of her cheek.

Suddenly, she gasps, eyes widening, sensing it before it happens.

He disappears before his fingers brush her skin, gone in an instant like so many times before.

She blows out a heavy exhale, her shoulders dropping as she stares blankly at the space where he used to be. After a moment, she lies back, descending slowly to the ground. She shifts onto her side, facing the cave opening, drawing her knees into her chest.

She stays like this for several minutes, her breath evening into a smooth, steady stream, her muscles relaxing, her heart returning to its regular rhythm. She gazes out of the cave, the world still shimmering, her mind strangely calm in spite of everything that just happened.

She lies like this for who knows how long. She doesn’t really sense the time passing.

The day’s events replay in her mind.

The scouting. The ravine. The shadow moss. The assault of sight and sound. Him. Taking care of her. Comforting her. Helping her make it through.   

Everything they talked about. Everything she discovered. Letting go, kissing him, embracing him, every little expression of pleasure and love.

Stopping him. His dark eyes, soft and understanding. The bond taking him away.

She sees it all in her mind. Once. Twice. Three times.

She doesn’t analyze it. She just observes, remembering the experiences, the emotions.

And all the while she feels at peace, confident that everything played out exactly the way it was supposed to.

Finally, she shifts, uncurling her legs from her chest and pushing into the earth with a palm. She rises slowly, purposefully, looking up and around, taking in the details of the cave.

Then she steps towards the opening, walking steadily, dipping down to exit into the forest, wet and gleaming.

She observes the mountainside, aware that she’s not quite sure where she is, that it will take her a while to find her way, that her team is likely concerned, wondering about her.

But she’s not worried about these things.

It’s ok. It’s all ok.

She’s right where she needs to be, doing exactly what she needs to do.

She takes a deep breath and sighs it out. Then she walks into the forest, disappearing into a canopy of green.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be December 8th. Gah! I'm sorry I have to keep pushing back the updates. Thank you for being so patient and understanding. And, as always, thank you for reading! Your kudos and comments make this all worth it!


	28. Sovereign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren deals with a tricky negotiation and an ongoing attempt to undermine his authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This is a “no Rey” chapter. Think of it as Kylo’s version of chapter 19. I don’t plan on doing this often, but I need to set up some First Order plot and character development that will be important later in the story. Thank you for reading!

“So, how bad is it this time?”

General Meric casts a cool glance to the colonel next to him.

The portly man sighs as he leans over the meeting table, hollow-eyed and exhausted.

“It could be worse,” Foss answers. “A third of the explosives malfunctioned, so the mines aren’t _entirely_ destroyed. Just…” He grunts. “Mostly.” He sighs again, covering his eyes with a palm.

“Tsk. Tsk.” The young general shakes his head in feigned commiseration. “How terrible.” His tone is sympathetic but there’s a glint in his eye. He can barely contain a smirk as he glances at General Hux seated across from them.

“Yes, it really is quite a shame.” Hux sits back in his chair, relaxed and impassive, an arm draped over his lap. “Especially when it could have so easily been avoided.”

Foss instantly drops his hand, incredulous.

“ _How?_ ” He demands petulantly. “What could we _possibly_ do to stop this insanity? After Apatros, half the Outer Rim scum are prepared to self-destruct. The _moment_ we show up at their doorstep—”

_BAM!_

He slams his fist on the table.    

“We can’t do a _damn thing_.” He huffs, exasperated.  

“Not now.” Meric raises an eyebrow. “But it could have been avoided in the first place.” Foss turns to the general but Meric just nods to Hux across the table.

“I spoke to Ren about this months ago.” Hux sits up now, a little fire in his eyes. “I _told_ him this was a possibility, that the gangs would start to catch on, try to slow us down. I suggested we invade more systems at once, snuff them out before such a thing occurred to them. _But_ …” He shakes his head ruefully.

Foss looks down, toying with this alternative in his mind.

“Yes… That would have better,” he mutters. “But it’s too late for that. All we can do now is grit our teeth and clean up the mess.” His sighs, defeated, his shoulders drooping.

“Do you have a team there yet?” Meric looks over at him.

“ _No_.” Foss crosses his arms, disgruntled. “I’ve got one coming in from Aeneid, but it won’t arrive for another two days.”

Hux knits his eyebrows, his narrow face pinched in confusion.

“Surely, there’s _something_ that can be done in the meantime.” He leans into the table. “What’s the infantry doing? Twiddling their thumbs?”

“No.” Foss shakes his head. “The Supreme Leader has them building an operational camp for the slaves.”

Both generals immediately scoff, rolling their eyes.

“ _Again?_ ” Meric snorts in disbelief. “What are we now? A damn _charity organization_?”

“What a _waste_ ,” Hux spits in contempt. “Housing gutter rats when we could already be digging out the tunnels.”

Suddenly, the door whirs open and General Kas strides swiftly into the room. He pulls out a chair, a to-do list written across his face, and wordlessly takes a seat. He doesn’t acknowledge the others but glares down with furrowed eyebrows, consumed in thought.

The three men barely acknowledge the middle-aged man, continuing with their conversation as though he weren’t there.

“What is this?” Meric blusters. “The _fifth_ time he has our troops taking care of riffraff?”

“The fourth,” Foss supplies eagerly.

“It’s a waste of our manpower,” Hux growls. “It’s a waste of our time. It’s a waste of our resources.”

“Added to the fact that he has us rebuilding half the damn galaxy.” Meric sits back in his chair, his cropped blonde hair gleaming in the light. “Don’t forget that.” Hux sneers at the reminder.

“At this rate—”

“Where’s Voigt?” Kas demands abruptly. Hux twitches, annoyed at the interruption.

“You know he’s always late.” Meric waves a hand dismissively. Kas sighs, looking back down.

“Ren’s running us into the ground with this nonsense,” Hux fumes. “We’re a glorified mining and construction outfit now. He’s cut our military spending in _half_. Soon, we’ll barely have an army left.”

“Well…” Foss starts tentatively. “That makes sense, doesn’t it? Now that the war’s over—”

“War is _never_ over.” Hux shoots forward in his chair, blue eyes cutting. Foss shrinks a bit. “Most of the Outer Rim is still overrun by gangs, the Resistance is growing more and more every day—”

“Not that the Supreme Leader’s doing anything about it,” Meric adds caustically.

“ _Exactly_.” Hux points at the general. “They’re a ticking time bomb, and while they’re growing _stronger_ , we’re growing _weaker_. Expending resources on foolishness, negotiating with scum…”

“Speaking of which,” Meric smirks. “Can you believe he let that twitchy little shit sit in on a Generals’ meeting?”

“ _Don’t_ remind me.” Hux covers his eyes with a palm. “It’s _unconscionable_ ,” he spits. “Giving a lower ranked twit high security clearance, letting him be privy to top secret information. Half the time he’s here, he follows at Ren’s heels like a dog.”

“The Supreme Leader’s pet,” Meric mimics sarcastically. “I heard he went down to visit the boy’s old unit, all the way to the loading decks.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it.” Hux practically cuts him off. “He’s added visits to the lower ranks to his rounds. Our esteemed sovereign, descending to the slums, consorting with engineers and technicians and supply workers.”

“ _Supply workers?_ ” Foss gapes in disbelief.

“Can you imagine if Snoke had done such a thing?” Meric smirks.

“Snoke would have never even _considered_ debasing himself in such a manner.” Hux gestures emphatically. “He actually respected his position, understood that he represented our _supremacy_ , our _power_ , our _authority_.” Hux grows angrier with every word, his nostrils flaring. “The comparison is enough to raise the question, isn’t it? If Ren is truly fit—”

“ _ENOUGH!_ ”

Kas abruptly slams his fist on the table, and the three men jump, startled. The older general leans in, eyes fixed on Hux.

“Firstly…” He cocks his head. “You really should refer to him as the _Supreme Leader_.” Hux opens his mouth to speak, but Kas cuts him off.

“ _Secondly_ …” The general bites. “The First Order is more powerful _now_ than it has ever been. Thanks to wise leadership, planets are lining up to negotiate with us for their resources. We’re tightening our grip over the galaxy’s economy by _the day_ , and if we’ve recently had to make a show of benevolence, it’s only been to repair the damage that _you_ did to our negotiating power after Garos.” At this, Hux’s face turns as red as his hair.

“And that lower-ranked twit, as you call him, is smarter than half the men at this table.” Kas raises a mocking eyebrow as Hux seethes.

“Careful Armitage…” The general continues in a foreboding tone. “If you keep talking like this, someone might suspect you of attempting to organize a mutiny.”

The room instantly falls silent.

Foss and Meric freeze in their seats, too terrified to speak. Only Hux keeps his head up, maintaining a defiant gaze, his upper lip twitching as Kas stares at him coldly.

Suddenly, the door whirs open, a welcome break to the tension in the room.

“ _Finally_.” Kas twists around in his chair but is surprised to see Sylas Bonden in the doorway. His shoulders drop in disappointment. “If Voigt isn’t here in three minutes, I’m leaving,” he mutters as he turns to the table again. 

“Uh… hey.” Sylas steps into the room, sharp and alert, sensing the tension. Both Hux and Meric shift away from him in their chairs.  

“General.” Sylas walks swiftly towards Kas.

“Why are you here?” The general asks absently, not bothering to look up. “Shouldn’t you be meeting with the Supreme Leader?”

“ _We’re_ supposed to meet with him, remember?” The young man looks confused. “We’re pitching the terms.”

“ _You’re_ pitching the terms.” Kas turns to him emphatically. “I gave him my report this morning. It’s all on you now.”

“Oh.” Sylas jerks back. “Ok.” He stands awkwardly for a moment. He glances at the others but all of them make a point of avoiding eye contact. “Right.” He turns and begins tepidly towards the door.

“Boy!” Sylas immediately snaps to Kas. The general twists in his chair to face him. “I am _sick_ of being on that shithole of a planet, boy.” He points a finger at him. “The Supreme Leader likes you. I need you to use that silver tongue of yours and convince him to accept the terms. Can you do that?”

Sylas stares blankly for a moment, but his lips soon twist into a smile.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “I can do anything.” He winks at the general.

Kas grunts, shaking his head with an amused look on his face.

“I’m starting to believe it,” he mutters as he turns in his chair.

Just as Sylas starts towards the door it opens and General Voigt strides casually into the room.

“Sorry I’m late, gentlemen,” he announces with an air of nonchalance. Kas rolls his eyes. “Shall we begin?” Voigt turns, noticing Sylas standing next to him. “What are _you_ doing here?” He narrows his eyes.  

“Uh…” Sylas backs away. “Leaving?”

“Good.” Voigt strides to the table. “Run along.” He shoos him away.

Sylas immediately turns and scurries out of the room.

He halts the moment the door whirs shut behind him, letting out a giant exhale of relief.

He covers his eyes with a palm, oblivious to his surroundings, throngs of black-clad operators and officers bustling down the wide hall of the dreadnaught.  

 _Ugh_.

The generals are _so intense_.

And half of them hate his guts. He’d avoid being around them if he could, but the Supreme Leader wants him learning the ends and outs of this place— the protocol, the politics… Who knows? He might just _be_ a general one day.

Suddenly, Sylas gasps, dropping his hand.

The Supreme Leader. The meeting.

He’s gonna be late.

_Shit._

He instantly barrels down the hall, weaving through the crowd, barely keeping himself from crashing into people as he goes.

“Excuse me! Sorry!”

He apologizes to anonymous faces as he darts by, searching wildly, trying to remember exactly where he is so he can figure out how to get where he needs to be.

_Ah ha!_

He turns sharply to the left, but nearly kicks a BB-9 unit at his feet. The droid swerves out of the way just in time, turning its square dome of a head to Sylas and cursing him in a series of beeps and whirs.

“Hey!” Sylas shouts as it rolls away. “That was uncalled for!” He points at the droid but it continues on without acknowledging him.

Sylas shakes his head, turning back down the hall.

First Order droids are _the worst._

He charges on quickly, the turbolift to the command bridge just ahead. He breaks into a full-on sprint when he sees the doors start to shut, squeezing his lean frame through just in time.

He catches his breath, nodding to the only other occupant, a young operator standing with her hands clasped in front of her. Sylas can’t help but notice that she’s quite attractive— small, delicate features and long, blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun.

Sylas positions himself next to her as the turbolift ascends, the upper levels of the dreadnaught rushing by in a grey blur. They stand silently for a moment.

“Hey.”

He looks over with a smile. The operator responds with a slight nod, hardly turning her head. 

Silence.

“Do you work on the command bridge?”

Another nod. She still doesn’t look at him.

More silence.

“That’s a big job.” Sylas turns towards her. “You must have been with the First Order for a while now, huh?”

This time, she doesn’t respond at all, only stares forward.

The turbolift begins to slow.

“Well…” Sylas squares his shoulders. “I’d love to talk, but I’ve got to make a meeting with the Supreme Leader.”

He bursts forward the instant the doors whir open, not looking back to see the operator’s face as she gapes after him.

Sylas smirks to himself as he barrels down another hall, this one much less populated, only a few officers strolling by. He races towards a thick blast door guarded by two Stormtroopers armed with blaster rifles.

Sylas slides to a halt just in front of them. He glances nervously at one, then the other. Neither say a word or acknowledge him at all.

“Uh….” He starts tentatively. “I’m here to meet with the Supreme Leader.” He cocks his head.

Nothing.

Sylas shifts awkwardly.

“I’m on the schedule,” he assures them. “Sylas Bonden.”

The troopers continue to stand, staring blankly forward in their white helmets. 

Suddenly, the blast door whirs open and the officer who manages the Supreme Leader’s appointments strides through.

“Sylas,” the older man announces, eyes fixed on his datapad. His face is well-worn, weathered with wrinkles. “Right on time.” He finally looks up.

“Come along.” The officer gestures. “You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

The man turns and Sylas scuttles after him.

They make their way quickly down a dark, narrow hall with curved walls. It’s lit only by a low red glow beneath the perforated edges of the floor, giving it an eerie quality.  

“Stop!”

The officer halts abruptly, Sylas nearly ramming into him.

“Wait,” he commands. Sylas nods, clasping his hands behind his back.

His gaze drifts to the floor, his mind wandering, beginning to practice the conversation in his mind, how he’ll pitch the terms to the Supreme Leader…

His head snaps up when he hears a door whir open just ahead.

General Ailen strides confidently out of a room to the right, a smirk of satisfaction on his pudgy, young face. He’s followed by two hollow-eyed officers staggering by like they’ve just survived a war.    

Ailen passes with a curt nod.

Sylas starts forward but the older officer clutches his arm, halting him in his tracks.

“ _Not yet_ ,” he hisses. He grips Sylas tightly as they wait in silence.

“Send him in.” A distorted voice finally commands through a nearby comm. The officer releases his arm, nodding towards the door. The young man takes a deep breath, then steps down the hall.

He turns into a long, rectangular room with a small meeting table in the center, chairs pulled out all around it. The walls are lined with consoles, flashing with a never-ending stream of data, except the very end, which is nothing but a giant window overlooking the stars.

A masked Kylo Ren faces the darkness, draped in black robes, gloved hands clasped loosely behind his back. He doesn’t turn as Sylas approaches.

The young man stops only a few feet behind him, straightening to stand at attention, arms pressed into his sides.

“Sir.” He greets dutifully.

The Supreme Leader stares out the window for a few moments. Then he turns, lifting his hands to remove his mask.   

Sylas looks up at the now familiar face— dark eyes, intense and penetrating, angled features, a faint scar cutting along his right cheek. He’s young, not at all like Sylas had pictured him. It makes sense why he wears the mask, why he makes a point to separate himself from everyone else.

Though he always takes it off when it’s just the two of them.

The Supreme Leader regards him coolly, his expression neutral except for the faintest hint of a smile.

“You spent the morning with Colonel Galen?” Kylo raises an eyebrow, stepping forward.

“Yep.” Sylas answers with a firm nod. “Just like you told me.”

“Good.” Kylo stops just in front of Sylas who still stands at attention. He stares down, studying him silently.

“Tell me what you learned.” He steps to the side, heading towards the table. Sylas turns, relaxing his stance.

“Well…” He starts, searching his mind for where to begin. “I learned we’re projected to double in size within the year. Since Delphon, recruiting’s been a breeze. We’ve been growing quickly some sectors and selectively in others, getting the best of the best. Once galactic relations becomes its own division, we’ll need more—”

“I already know this.” The Supreme Leader sets his mask on the table. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He looks at Sylas pointedly as he takes a seat.

The young man nods, then looks down, taking a deep breath.

He knows what the Supreme Leader _really_ wants. It’s just taking him a while to get used to doing it.

It feels so…. _wrong_. Looking the head of the First Order dead in the eye and telling him everything he doesn’t like about how things are done around here, things that can be improved, things he doesn’t understand.

But that’s exactly what he wants.

It took couple of meetings for Sylas to figure it out. At first, he thought the Supreme Leader was just testing him, sending him to various divisions to see how well he picked up on things.

But no, it soon became clear that what he really wanted was to see this organization through different eyes, someone who notices things he wouldn’t, asks questions he might not think to ask.  

“Why…?” Sylas starts tentatively. “Why don’t we recruit anyone out of the Outer Rim?”

Kylo narrows his eyes.

“I mean, I know we’ve picked up some mining teams there,” Sylas corrects himself, scuttling forward to take a seat. “But other than that—”

“Why do you ask?” The Supreme Leader sits back in his chair.

“Because…” Sylas leans over to rest his forearms on his knees. “It kinda seems like our recruiters make a point of avoiding the Outer Rim.” 

“It seems that way because it is that way,” Kylo answers bluntly.

“Why?” Sylas knits his eyebrows.

“Because,” The Supreme Leader starts in his authoritative tone. “The Outer Rim is less populated. The pool of qualified potentials is smaller. And the people there are less educated and more…” He pauses, mulling over his next word. “ _Rebellious_ ,” he finally finishes. Sylas tilts his head.

“You’re not wrong,” he concedes. “ _But_ …” The young man’s eyes drift to the ceiling. “With all we’re doing out there lately— these invasions and now negotiations with groups like the Lords. It just seems like…” He shrugs. “We could use some more people who know the Outer Rim. And not just lower ranked people. Officers and such.” Kylo lets out a half laugh.

“Sylas.” The Supreme Leader leans forward, his tone condescending. “I trust you’ve learned by now that the culture of the First Order is a bit elitist.”

Sylas grunts.  

That’s gotta be the understatement of the year…

“The people here have very _well-refined_ ideas about what makes a person qualified for the upper ranks and what doesn’t,” Kylo continues. “And their perception of the Outer Rim populace doesn’t exactly suit those ideas.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sylas grumbles, looking down.

He quickly looks back up, worried the Supreme Leader might think he’s being ungrateful for his promotion. But Sylas is surprised to find the man’s eyes not only empty of reproach but slightly softened.  

Sylas seizes the opportunity. 

“Sir,” he starts eagerly. “You _knew_ before you promoted me that everyone would say I don’t belong, that you shouldn’t give a nobody like me this kind of responsibility. But you did it _anyway_.” He leans forward, eyes locked on the Supreme Leader’s. “Because you knew we needed someone like me up here. And isn’t that the point of having a sovereign in the first place?” He sits back again. “You see something that needs to be done, so you override everyone’s preferences to make it happen.”

Kylo purses his lips, considering this.

“That’s true…” His tone is careful, measured. “But a sovereign can’t just do what he wants without respect to the organization. Change has to happen slowly.”

“Ok.” Sylas shrugs. “So, start slow. Give Colonel Galen a quota to hit for Outer Rim recruits in all divisions. A _small one_ ,” he hastily adds. “And maybe…” Sylas tenses, bracing himself. “Consider tweaking some of the requirements for promotion?”

“ _What_ _requirements?_ ” The Supreme Leader snaps at him.

“Well…” Sylas blows out a puff of air. “Mostly the one that gives preference to people who have been with the First Order the longest.”

“That protocol is in place for _good_ _reason_ ,” Kylo responds emphatically.

“I know, I know, rewarding loyalty and all that.” Sylas waves a hand. “But as long as that’s the rule, the upper ranks of the First Order will only be people who remember how things were, who came in during the war.” He raises his eyebrows. “ _You’re_ the one who’s always saying we need to be a governing body now. That’ll be a lot harder if everyone in charge has a military mindset.” The Supreme Leader looks away, eyes dark with thought.

“We’re getting _all_ this fresh blood right now, mostly in the lower ranks,” Sylas continues. “And none of them have even the slightest chance of getting promoted. It just…” He tilts his head.  “Seems like a wasted opportunity. There could be some really good people being overlooked, people who could help make the changes you want to see around here.”

The Supreme Leader stares into the floor, eyebrows furrowed, looking like he’s angry.  

“I-It’s just a thought.” Sylas backs away, sounding more tentative. “I mean… _you’re_ the Supreme Leader.” Kylo continues staring down, oblivious to Sylas, lost in his own mind. The young man starts to grow nervous…

“Let’s get to the reason you’re here,” the Supreme Leader abruptly changes the subject. Sylas lets out an exhale, not realizing he was holding it in. “General Kas tells me we’re ready to come to terms.”

“Right.” Sylas nods, shifting gears quickly as he scoots his chair into the table. He rests both forearms on the surface, clasping his hands together. “So, it wasn’t easy, but here’s where we’re at.” He takes a deep breath, preparing himself. Then he looks up with a direct gaze.

“The Lords will pull out of _all_ the iridium mines on Anthan Prime,” he starts confidently. “And agree not to interfere with the First Order’s access to them in any way, _if_ the parliament puts half of what we give them for the mines into repairing the planet’s waterways.” The Supreme Leader’s expression remains neutral. 

So far, so good.

Now comes the hard part.

“ _And_ …” Sylas draws out the word. “If the parliament makes it illegal for anyone in the Anthan government to step foot on the Spire.” Kylo’s eyebrows immediately shoot up.

“And the Anthan Parliament said they’ll agree to this?” He asks, incredulous.

Sylas clicks his tongue.

“Yeah.” He nods. The Supreme Leader stares at him, eyes like slits. Sylas fiddles with his hands as Kylo continues to stare coldly.

“It’s my understanding…” The Supreme Leader leans in. “That most members of the Anthan parliament _live_ on the Spire, do they not?”

“Not officially.” Sylas squirms in his seat. “But yeah, they each have private quarters and pretty much spend all their time up there.”

Kylo’s expression darkens.

“Well, you see…” Sylas struggles to maintain his confidence. “The idea is that if they have to spend all their time on the planet, then they’ll be more likely to, you know…” He bobs his head. “ _Actually_ care that it’s a giant garbage heap.” He presses his lips together.

The Supreme Leader looks less than pleased.

“And what would you say is the likelihood that the members of parliament will keep their word?” Kylo never takes his eyes off Sylas.

The young man squints.

“Uh…” He twists his lips to one side. “I would say…” he continues slowly, “the likelihood is somewhere in the general vicinity of…” He looks up, feigning internal calculation. “About zero,” he concludes.

The Supreme Leader’s jaw hardens.

“Then we _haven’t_ come to terms,” he spits. “This agreement will fall apart in less time it took to negotiate it, and we’ll be _right back_ where we started.” 

“Not necessarily,” Sylas pipes up. “Hear me out.” He wiggles forward in his chair.

“So…when you think about it,” he begins with a sly look. “The goal here isn’t exactly to come to a _lasting_ agreement.” The Supreme Leader stares at him with cold eyes. Sylas clears his throat. “I mean we’ve all got different goals, right?” He gestures on either side of him. “Our goal is to get access to the mines. The Lords’ goal is to clean up the planet. And the parliament…” Sylas wrinkles his nose. “They just want to add a new deck to the Spire.” He pauses, tilting his head.

The Supreme Leader still looks unhappy.

“My point is…” Sylas raises an index finger. “If we play this right, I think there’s an excellent shot that two out of three parties can meet their goals.”

“ _How?_ ” Kylo challenges.

“So, here’s how this will have to go down.” Sylas squares his shoulders. “When we draw up the agreement, we need to be…” His eyes drift upward, searching for the right word. “ _Vague_ ,” he says finally, “about this whole ‘don’t step foot on the Spire’ thing.”

“Vague?” Kylo raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Sylas nods. “Basically, we need to give parliament the impression that they’ll easily be able to break that part of agreement without much repercussion.” The Supreme Leader nods, starting to look more curious than angry.

“Then _after_ it’s official,” Sylas emphasizes the timing. “We reveal the details.”

“Which will be…?” Kylo turns his head.

“We put trackers in all the members of Parliament,” Sylas declares matter-of-factly. “Every time any one of them steps foot on the Spire, we publicize it to the whole planet.” The Supreme Leader furrows his eyebrows.

“And when that happens, what will the Lords do?” He probes.

“Well, you see…” Sylas starts nervously. “That’s actually why Lord Ixion likes this plan. He thinks that once the Anthan people see their leaders breaking their promise again and again, it’ll whip everyone into action so he can finally start his rebellion.”

Kylo instantly rolls his eyes.

“ _Excellent_.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “So, we’ll be mining iridium in a war zone. What a perfect environment for efficient extraction.” He cocks his head caustically.

Sylas sighs, dropping his shoulders.  

“Do you have _any idea_ how long wars like that drag on?” The Supreme Leader barks at him. “They last _forever_.”

“ _Unless_.” Sylas perks up. “The First Order were to say…” He drums his fingers on the table. “Arm the Lords?” He suggests tentatively. Kylo rolls his eyes again.

“Sylas, the First Order _cannot_ be seen giving weapons to an organization in open rebellion against their own government.”

 “But we don’t have to be seen!” Sylas practically cuts him off. “We can go through third parties. We’ve got plenty of weapons contractors who owe us a favor.”

“No.” The Supreme Leader shakes his head. “Sylas, _no_.”

“Ok, listen.” Sylas raises his hands defensively. “Let me finish.” Kylo sighs, annoyed, but nods for him to continue. Sylas leans over the table, eyes fixed on the Supreme Leader’s.

“We _can_ arm the Lords without the weapons being traced back to us. I _know_ we can.” He maintains a firm gaze. “You gave me high security clearance, remember? I did my research. I can name three contractors right now who will do this for us like that.” Sylas snaps his fingers.

“And if the Lords are well-armed, the Anthan government will fall in a _month_ , probably less,” Sylas declares confidently. “Then, Lord Ixion will set up a new government in its place, one that is _completely_ and _utterly_ loyal to the First Order. It’ll be like Delphon all over again. They’ll bend over backwards to support us in _whatever_ way they can.”

Kylo brings a hand to his jaw, growing thoughtful. Sylas pauses for a few moments, watching closely, trying to read him.

“Even if that were to happen…” The Supreme Leader starts slowly. “There’s no way we would escape suspicion for colluding against the Anthan government. They may not be able to prove it, but half the galaxy will think we tipped the scales in the Lords’ favor.”

“So?” Sylas shrugs. “It’s not like anyone will have much sympathy for parliament. _They’re_ the ones who’ve been letting the whole planet rot while they pour money into the Spire. _They’re_ the ones who will break the agreement and start this whole mess in the first place. They’ll have brought it on themselves. And if anyone thinks we had anything to do with it, they’ll probably see it as…” Sylas pauses. “Justice,” he finishes with a smile.

The Supreme Leader eyes him warily.

“I’m sure there will be _many_ governments across the galaxy who won’t see it that way.” Kylo leans forward. “And they’ll _remember_ this when we show up to negotiate with them.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s a good thing.” Sylas leans forward too, a little a fire in his eyes. “Maybe this is the _perfect_ way to start these kinds of negotiations. You know…” Sylas sits back in his chair. “When I first showed up on Anthan Prime, Lord Ixion just assumed the First Order would be biased in parliament’s favor, that we’d treat the Lords like scum. He was _shocked_ we’d consider a plan like this.” Sylas leans into the table again.

“Just like all the other groups rebelling against governments that don’t do their jobs right will be _shocked_ when this all goes down and we’re suspected of helping the Lords.” Sylas raises his eyebrows. “And you _better believe_ that they’ll remember this when we show up to negotiate with them.”

“And the _governments_ they’re rebelling against?” Kylo challenges. “How will this affect our negotiations with _them_?” Sylas looks down, considering this for a moment.

“They’ll be more wary of us…” He nods slowly. Then he looks up with a glint in his eye. “But they’ll make _damn sure_ they can keep to whatever terms they agree to.”

The Supreme Leader grunts. His gaze remains fixed on Sylas as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m surprised Kas supports this plan.” He narrows his eyes. “This _will_ make his job more difficult moving forward.”

“He doesn’t see it that way.” Sylas shakes his head. “He likes the idea of governments getting nervous about what could happen if they break their agreements.”

“They’ll be _a lot_ more than just nervous,” Kylo responds darkly. “They’ll be fastidious, _nitpicking_. This trick of yours, being vague on the details, will only work once. After this, they’ll want to know _every detail_ of any agreement they sign.” He looks away, rubbing his jaw with a hand. “Negotiations will take longer…” He furrows his eyebrows.

Sylas straightens, moving his hands to his lap. He watches the Supreme Leader closely.

“It’ll be worth it.” He interrupts the silence.

Kylo glances at him.

“It’ll be worth it,” Sylas repeats. “To send a message.”

 “What message?” Kylo raises an eyebrow.

Sylas juts his chin up. “The First Order can be just as tough on governments that break their promises as they are on scum that break the law.”

The Supreme Leader’s hand slides from his jaw. His expression is still neutral but…

He rests a forearm on the table, dark eyes sharp and focused.

“I want you…”  The Supreme Leader begins slowly. “To meet with Colonel Sykes. Today. Talk to him about our options for arming the Lords through one of our contractors.” Sylas perks up in his chair. “Then report to me at 1800 with Kas. I want to see _both_ of you.” Kylo leans forward. “ _If_ you can find a contractor fit for the job…” Sylas brightens, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll approve the terms.”

“ _Yes!_ ” Sylas leaps out of his chair without thinking. He quickly retakes his seat, glancing sheepishly from side to side. “Yes, sir,” he says in a more deferent tone. “I’ll meet with Colonel Sykes and come back with Kas. It won’t take long.” He shakes his head, his smile widening to a grin. “We’ll be on our way back to Anthan Prime _tomorrow_.”

“We’ll see,” The Supreme Leader answers with his signature coldness but there’s a glimmer in his eye.

Sylas takes a deep breath, _surging_ with confidence.

“Alright,” he announces with a flush. “This is good. This is gonna be good.” He starts to nod, looking down, rubbing his hands together as he mentally runs through his research on weapons contractors… So many options…  

“What are you still doing here?” He looks up at the sound of the Supreme Leader’s voice.

“Oh!” Sylas springs from his chair. “Right. Of course.” He straightens to stand at attention. “Thank you, sir.” He gives a small bow. “I’ll…” He points to the door. “Be back. At 1800…” He steps to the side and begins scurrying around the table.

He moves quickly towards the exit but halts only a few feet away. He stands awkwardly for a moment, staring down and fidgeting.

“ _Yes…?_ ” The Supreme Leader draws out the word behind him.

Sylas tenses. He keeps his eyes on the floor, a war waging in his mind.

He _does not_ want to bring this up.

The Supreme Leader probably knows about it anyway. The surveillance on these ships is _insane_. If he hasn’t heard it from someone, surely he gets some kind of report, a summary of recorded conversations or something.

Then again, he can’t imagine the Supreme Leader has the time or the interest to review First Order gossip. And he can’t think of anyone who’d have the guts to mention this to him...  

“ _Sylas._ ” The Supreme Leader sounds annoyed now. “Either spit it out or take your leave.” 

The young man sighs, dropping his shoulders. Finally, he turns, slowly, reluctantly.

Kylo shifts in his seat to face him.

“It’s just—” Sylas starts but immediately stops. He looks down to the floor. “I thought maybe I should tell you…” He scratches his head. “I mean, you probably already know, but uh…” He drops his hand, still fidgeting.

“Know what?”

“Well…” He shuffles his feet. “It’s just that… There’s been a lot of talk lately.” He tenses, bracing himself. He can’t believe he’s about to do this… “F-from General Hux.” He glances up tentatively. 

The Supreme Leader is sitting back in his chair, relaxed and impassive. He doesn’t appear to react at all, his expression remaining absolutely neutral.

“And what has Hux been talking about?” He doesn’t even blink.

Sylas gulps.

“Apatros,” he answers. “And… Crucival now.” He studies the Supreme Leader, searching for a sign of whether or not he should keep going.

But the man’s face is inscrutable, like a second mask.

“He… He’s been telling everyone…” Sylas struggles to continue. “That he warned you the Outer Rim gangs might start destroying their mines out of spite. He says he recommended speeding up the invasions before it became a problem but…” He bites his lip. “You said no.” He tenses again.

But the Supreme Leader does nothing. He simply continues staring, a forearm resting casually on the table.  

“Is that all?” He asks evenly.

Sylas lets out a long exhale.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve heard he talks about me a lot. He says I’m not fit for this position. And you’ve endangered the First Order by giving me high security clearance.”

The Supreme Leader tilts his head.

“Anything else?”

Sylas sighs heavily.

“Well… yeah, but…” He covers his eyes with a palm. “If I told you everything Hux complains about, I’d be here all day.” He drags his hand over his face. “I just thought you should know that he’s been talking _a lot_ lately and…” He looks down. “Some people are listening.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

At least, that’s what it seems like to Sylas. He bores holes into the floor, waiting for the Supreme Leader to speak.

“Who’s listening?” Kylo asks quietly.

Sylas takes a deep breath.

“Some of the generals.” He blows out a puff of air. “Like Meric and DeVries. Some colonels. Some lieutenants. A little bit of everyone, it seems like.” He looks up. “I even overheard a couple of operators the other day. They didn’t mention Hux by name, but they were complaining about all the stuff he talks about. It’s like...” He pauses. “Everything he says filters down. He complains to the generals, the generals complain to the colonels, the colonels complain to the other officers, and it just goes on and on like that…” Sylas makes a circular gesture with a hand.

The Supreme Leader stares at him, his dark eyes intense. But he doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look concerned.

“It just…” Sylas gulps. “It just seems like he’s trying to poison people against you. In fact…” He shifts awkwardly. “Sometimes it seems like…” He presses his lips together, not sure how to put this. The people around here are really uptight about the word “mutiny.” But maybe in this case…?

“It seems like he’s trying to convert people,” he finishes. “Convert them to seeing the First Order the way he does. Which is…” Sylas grunts. “ _Not at all_ like you see it.”   

At this, the Supreme Leader lets out a long sigh, his first visible reaction.

“And would you say…” He begins, sitting up. “That his efforts are successful?”

Sylas instantly shakes his head.

“Not for most people,” he answers. “Most people think you’re doing a great job. Some even think you’re better than Snoke. But…” He presses his lips together. “Since Apatros, I think people have been a little more… _susceptible_.” He chooses the word carefully. “Susceptible to believing the bad things.” 

At this, the Supreme Leader looks down.

“Most people still support you,” Sylas quickly adds. “The ones questioning your decisions are the minority. But if Hux had his way…” He grunts. “Apatros was like a gift to him.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s an easy way to make you look bad. And he’s _desperate_ to find other ways to question your fitness as a leader. Like…” Sylas pauses.

“For example…” His starts to grow nervous. “He’s been trying to find out about…” His throat tightens. “The girl,” he mumbles.

“ _What girl?_ ” Kylo glowers at him.

“Th-th sector 12 girl?” Sylas stammers. “The one you pulled off a transport in the loading decks?” He gulps as the Supreme Leader darkens. “S-some say she was on Apatros.” He takes a weak breath. “Apparently, a few troopers saw you…” He shrinks a little. “Kiss her…?”

Kylo instantly rolls his eyes. He shoots up from his chair to stalk towards the window, stopping just in front of it. He crosses his arms and glares out at the blackness of space.

“What else do people say?” He demands, his back to Sylas.

“Well…” The young man starts tepidly. “All kinds of things. Who knows what’s true. Some say she was once a prisoner of ours. Some claim she was on the ship the day the Supremacy got spliced in two. Others say she used to be a Knight of Ren. A few think she’s some kind of cult leader, like a Jedi or something.” Sylas pauses, waiting for the Supreme Leader to react.

But he only continues to stare out the window.

“I don’t think anyone knows much.” Sylas tries to sound reassuring. “Nobody knows who she is. But everyone wants to. Even _I_ want to.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “But Hux most of all. He _really_ wants to find out as much about her as he can.”

Sylas tilts his head, studying the Supreme Leader closely. He can’t see his face, yet he can tell he’s angry, his body all tense and rigid.  

Sylas blows out a long exhale as he continues to stare at the Supreme Leader’s back. He starts fidgeting absently, tapping a finger at his side. A minute passes and he starts to worry.

Maybe this was a bad idea… He shouldn’t have brought this up, _any_ of it…

“Sylas.” The Supreme Leader finally breaks the silence. He turns slowly, uncrossing his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. “You’re loyal.” He takes a few steps towards him. “And loyalty is an invaluable quality.”

At this, Sylas perks up, his worry quickly abating.

The Supreme Leader stops a few feet in front of him.

“I want you to keep doing what you’re doing,” he continues, dark eyes fixed on his. “Keep listening. And keep reporting to me.”

Sylas nods eagerly.

“Of course.” He looks up at the Supreme Leader. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Kylo turns back towards the window. “Go now.” He walks away, his hands clasped behind him.

“Yes, sir.” Sylas snaps to attention then turns a heel and strides towards the door.

But once again, he halts just a few feet in front of it. He pauses a moment before turning slowly to the Supreme Leader.

“Do you…?” He starts tentatively. “Do you mind...?” He purses his lips. “if I, uh, ask…” He squints a little. “Who _is_ the girl?”

Kylo instantly whips around.

“ _Get out!_ ”

“Yep. Getting out.” Sylas scampers out of the room.  

Kylo glares after him as the door whirs shut. Then he sighs, turning to face the window.

He stares out at the stars, faint twinkles of light in a sea of blackness. Somehow, they make the darkness seem darker. They’re so dim, so far apart, emphasizing how so much of space is just that.

Emptiness.

Kylo sighs again as the view fades to the background, becoming nothing more than a place to look as he withdraws deep into his thoughts.

He thinks about everything Sylas just told him— Hux poisoning every level of this organization with his grousing and gossip, desperately searching for information on Rey…

Kylo grits his teeth. 

The boy didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. But the fact he felt compelled to mention it is an indicator of how bad it’s getting.

Apatros gave Hux a weapon, one he’s wielding _expertly_. And now that Crucival has confirmed this is a trend, he’ll only get worse…

But the bastard’s being careful. He knows First Order law like the back of his hand. He _wrote_ half of it. He’s flirting with the line but never crossing it, never doing anything that could have him kicked out or executed.

He’s just talking. And he’s getting others to talk too. Slowly but surely, he’s twisting people’s perceptions, how they see Kylo’s leadership, how they interpret the changes he’s making to the organization. Some are starting to feel like he’s lost sight of what the First Order truly is…

But most are still loyal. They see the necessity of this evolution, how the First Order must become something different now that they’ve won control of the galaxy. Hux’s poison doesn’t work on people like Kas and Voigt, practical men who understand the complexities of building an empire.

But Hux is eager to tip the scales, to convert more of the generals to his way of thinking.

This problem with the Outer Rim gangs isn’t enough. And as long as Kylo’s methodical about it, his changes to the First Order’s structure aren’t enough either.

But if the generals were to find out about Rey…?

Kylo instantly grows cold.

They would interpret his hands-off approach to the Resistance in a _very_ different light.

They’re already getting impatient, eager to take the offense before the Resistance beats them to the punch. Kylo thought he could avoid that kind of confrontation through his leadership, through showing the galaxy there’s no need for any organized effort against his reign.

But he can’t undo Snoke’s mistakes. He can’t rewind time and soften the wanton cruelty he exercised in their rise to power.

And he can’t banish the ghosts of Hosnian Prime.

 _If only_ he had a way to show the galaxy that this sacrifice was _worth it_ , that in the long term a weapon like Starkiller can save more lives than it ends. 

But that takes time, time he doesn’t have…

And in spite all his success, all the support he’s gaining throughout the galaxy, the Resistance is growing like wildfire. New blood is _pouring_ into their ranks, thanks to Rey. According to his intel, she’s become quite the little recruiter.  

He’s trying to keep the war cold for now, limiting their response non-military action— cutting off their access to resources, shutting down their donors. But he can only do that for so long.

This war will become hot. Sooner rather than later.

_Unless…_

He stares intently into the blackness.

_Unless he can convince Rey to join the First Order before that happens._

He tenses, clenching his jaw.

Then he lets out a heavy sigh, turning to walk towards the table. He absently takes a seat, his eyebrows furrowed, churning inwardly, a sense of urgency grating against a softer inclination, what he knows about Rey. 

On the one hand, he’s realized he needs to be more patient with her. What he’s asking her to do isn’t easy. She’s surrounded by people who hate the First Order, people she considers friends, family even.

 _Of course_ she’s reluctant to join an organization everyone in her community views as evil. _Of course_ she feels shame at the thought of leaving them to stand with him instead.

And it’s not just shame keeping her from embracing her destiny, her place by his side.

She’s so vulnerable. So tender. So innocent. She’s spent most of her life alone. The idea of being so close to someone terrifies her.

But she’s finally starting to let go…

At this, the memory washes over him, the images flashing in his mind.

He sees her sitting before him in the cave, her eyes soft and full of purpose. He sees her lean in, her lips connecting with his, slowly, deliberately, savoring the moment. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her, the way she crawled on top of him, her body pressed against his, her fingers running through his hair, her lips soft and wet, hungrily taking his again and again and again…  

His eyes snap open.

He takes a deep breath, a swell of warmth overcoming his senses.

He meant what he told her. Every word.

Ideally, that’s exactly what he would do. Cast all their differences to the side and just be with her as often as he can— through the bond, in whatever way possible. Let everything else work itself out in time.  

But he _doesn’t have_ time. That’s the problem.

War’s on the horizon, inching steadily closer.

Then there’s Hux, desperately searching for her all while she’s becoming the face of recruitment for the Resistance.  

Kylo’s done everything he can to _bury_ any evidence her, of any connection between them. He destroyed her medical records, reassigned the designation of her tracker, wiped clean all evidence of her off the ship’s surveillance.

But he can’t stop the inevitable…  

People _will_ find out. Eventually.

Of course, they will.

But _it must_ at the right time, _after_ she takes her place at his side. He can’t have the entire the First Order erupt into a frenzy of gossip about his relationship with a leading figure in the Resistance. He doesn’t even want to _imagine_ what Hux would do in that situation…

Kylo shudders inwardly. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, growing increasingly unsettled.

 _If only_ there were a way to speed up this process, a way to get closer to her, to see her more, let her experience everything she’s missing, everything she knows is true in her heart— that they _belong_ together, that it’s their _destiny_ to rule together, side by side, leading the greatest empire this galaxy has ever seen.

He’s thought about it. He’s thought about it _so many times_. Finding excuses to be near her, to go to where she is, contriving scenarios like Apatros, reasons for them to see each other outside of the bond.

But he can’t do that.

Or at least, he’d have to be very careful doing that.

Because he doesn’t _ever_ want her wondering how he knows where she is...

Kylo immediately darkens. He tenses his shoulders, hunching over, eyes fixed on the floor.

Suddenly, he sits up, startled by the crackle of his master comm.

“Sir, the representative from Sienar-Jaemus has arrived,” a voice announces through the static. “He’s waiting in hanger C in Sector 11.”

Kylo snatches the comm from his belt.

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” he commands. He sighs, rising and reattaching his comm. In one swift motion, he sweeps his mask from the table, then strides towards the door.

But he slows as he gets nearer, halting only a few feet away. He stares at the floor, feeling heavy, a strange kind of exhaustion overtaking him, not physical but something else, like a weariness of spirit.

He stands like this for a minute.

Then, he slowly lifts his mask up and overhead, clicking it into place. He squares his shoulders and exits the room without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to get back on schedule, the next update will be December 15th. Thank you for your patience and as always, thank you for reading!


	29. Rematch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren seeks to improve the First Order’s martial forces

The training room is in chaos.

Or at least, it appears to be.

Men run at each other, wild-eyed and snarling, wielding all manner of melee weapons— vibro-axes, pikes, double-sided blades.

They hack and slash at one another, thrusting, swinging, leaping, dodging. Some duck behind curved structures scattered about the room, tall blocks of metal with no other function than to serve as a spring board or a hiding spot.

But no one hides for long.

They can’t. Not with throngs of adrenaline-charged men rampaging about, hungry for an opportunity to prove themselves, to stand out from the rest.

At first glance, it looks like a war zone, a violent free for all without rhyme or reason.

But if one looks closely, there’s a method to the madness. The chaos is organized, men grouped in clusters of four or five, never venturing far from their corner of the room.

Not everyone is fighting. Some men are crouching on the sidelines, watching, waiting. Every now and then, a black-clad officer gestures to one of them, directing them to join the fight as he pulls another man, sweating and breathless, from the floor to take a seat.

The officers observe the combatants coolly, often glancing down to enter notes on a datapad. Most are careful to stay out of the way, but a few boldly stride through the melee, barely avoiding bodies and weapons as they fly across the room.  

One isn’t so lucky. He cries out, dropping his pad, after the blunt end of a spiked blade flies directly into his face. He whips his hands to his nose, desperately trying to stay the gushing blood, as another officer rushes over to him.

Several men lower their weapons, turning to check out the commotion.

But Kylo Ren doesn’t move.

His focus remains straight ahead, fixed on the man in front of him.

His opponent is short and stocky, not too old, about thirty from the looks of him. He’s soaked in sweat, the fabric of his clothes clinging to his pale brown skin. He stands just a few feet away, shoulders hunched, gripping the end of a long, black baton.

Kylo slides his thumb over the handle of his own baton, briefly activating the weapon. The man flinches at the electric crackle but never looks away. Instead he straightens and switches his baton to the other hand, answering Kylo’s crackle with his own.

Kylo smirks.

He likes this one. 

The man’s a bit brash, but confident and decisive. He’s intimidated but careful not to show it. His face remains neutral, relaxed even. Only his eyes hint at his inner state— urgent, focused, on edge.

Kylo steps to the side, circling him, his demeanor casual. He tilts his head, eyeing his opponent, curious to see what he’ll do next.

Suddenly, the man flies forward, charging straight for Kylo, his baton crackling overhead. At first, he appears to aim for his head, but he dips down at the last second, striking at his side.

Kylo easily dodges the blow, then whacks the man sternly on the neck. The man hisses, a small burn visible on his skin, but he doesn’t skip a beat. He tucks and rolls behind him, grabbing an abandoned vibro-axe on the floor and rising, already swinging his newly acquired weapon.

The ax whips through the air, creating audible wind, barely missing Kylo’s chest. In the next instant, the man aims his baton at his core.

But Kylo catches the man’s wrist with his free hand, squeezing and twisting against the joint. His opponent cries out and drops his weapon. He tries another swing of his axe but Kylo strikes hard at the crook of his elbow, loosening the man’s grip. He strikes again at his forearm and the axe clatters to floor as the man falls to his knees.  

Kylo steps behind him, twisting the man’s arm straight up in the air.

“You realize your mistake, don’t you?” He presses a knee against his shoulder. “You sacrificed strategy for ferocity. In a fight, you need _both_.” He pushes his arm forward, straining the joint. “You picked up a new weapon but you didn’t consider the consequences, how it could put you at a disadvantage. Now you have _no weapons_ and you’re _dead_.” He pushes his arm even harder, straining the shoulder to its breaking point. The man gasps in pain.

“Sir.”

Kylo looks up to find an officer standing next to him, datapad at the ready.

“Alpha or beta?” The officer asks, nodding to his opponent.

Kylo pauses, glancing down at the man.

“Alpha,” he declares decisively, releasing his arm. The man rises, gripping his shoulder, and turns to face him. He’s smiling despite the fact that he’s clearly in pain.

“Thank you, sir,” he looks up eagerly. Kylo nods.

“You did well,” he informs him. “I’ll see you here next week.” The man gives a short bow then straightens, looking proud of himself. He turns, heading for the sideline.

Kylo shifts to the officer next to him.

“We’re done here,” he commands curtly, handing him his weapon. “Clear the room. Tell the others I want their reports submitted in an hour.”

The officer nods as he takes Kylo’s baton. He strides away briskly, careful to avoid a group of fighting men on his way to the sideline.

Not a minute later a loud buzz reverberates through the room and the chaos of combat dies down within seconds. An officer directs the men to return their weapons and report back to their units, telling those who made the cut to return next week— same time, same place.

Kylo walks past some of the men as they file to the door, a few nodding to him as he passes. He nods back, recognizing most of them as other alphas, men who continue to make the cut from week to week.

He’s close. Another tryout, maybe two, and he’ll have his team. Then he can _really_ start training them.

A combat unit made entirely of nobodies he’s plucked from the lower ranks, brawlers who haven’t had a day of proper instruction in their lives.

But that’s exactly the point.

They’ll be a training unit, a way for Hux’s cadets to develop the skills they’re missing, the ability to fight opponents who don’t play by the rules, survivors who fight tooth and nail, who don’t give a damn about following proper form, only _winning_.  

Then maybe the so-called best of the First Order will _finally_ start to fight with some ingenuity.

And as an added bonus, he’ll get to watch Hux see his precious cadets thrashed by a bunch of lower-ranked brawlers.

Kylo smirks to himself as he approaches the washing station. He picks up a towel and drags it over his face, then moves to wipe the sweat from his arms.  

He’s already flirting with the idea of doing more. This unit could become _his_ cadets, a rival to Hux’s. The competition would sharpen them both, encourage Hux’s men to be more off the cuff and his men to fight more strategically.

Though he’s leery of the commitment. These days, he barely has the time to train _himself_ , much less anyone else.

But he must admit…

He’s enjoyed this. He’s enjoyed the past few weeks, getting to know these men who spend most of their days performing menial tasks but have colorful histories, experiences that have battle-hardened them, that make them fight like it’s win or die.

Sylas isn’t the only diamond in the rough.

Not that he’s found anyone who comes even _close_ to matching the boy’s talents— his intelligence, his savvy, his adaptability.      

But the people who comprise the lower ranks aren’t the simpletons he once imagined them to be. He’s been engaging with them more, visiting different units, observing, questioning, learning. And he’s been surprised by what he’s found.

Many of them are like Sylas, castaways who’ve had to fight to survive, men who’ve learned to get creative or get killed. They’ve come to the First Order seeking stability, a haven from their hard lives.

A place to call home.

It’s strange to think of the cold annals of a First Order dreadnaught as something resembling a home. But to many of these men, that’s exactly what it is. It’s certainly a step up from the desperate wastelands they come from…

Kylo casts his towel to the side and turns to face the room.

It’s empty. Completely empty.

He strides forward, taking a look around. There’s blood and sweat spattered all over the matted floor, weapons stacked high next to the entrance along with a disordered pile of red-stained cloth.   

The cleaning droids have their work cut out for them.  

Kylo charges towards the door, his mind already reviewing the rest of his day, what has to be done.

He needs to meet with Galen about the adjustments to recruitment. Then Petrov about the upcoming invasion of the Kaller system. He’ll have to plan another trip to Felucia, figure out how he’s going to manage that ongoing _disaster_. And he’ll have to carve out some time to deal with this Corellian problem…

Half the generals want to blockade the entire system, but he’d rather pursue a less extreme measure, _if possible_. Which means he’ll be holding Hux back like a snarling dog… 

Kylo sighs, covering his eyes with a palm. He wipes it over his face as he continues swiftly towards the door.

But soon, he starts to slow, halting only a few feet away. He stands there, unmoving, staring at the exit.   

A minute passes.

Then another.

Then another.

Kylo just continues staring.

He sees it all in his mind— the people he needs to meet, the problems he needs to solve, the plans he needs to make.

Part of him is already back at work.

But another part of him is weary, _desperate_ for any reason to stay in this room, to put off the problems on the other side of the door just a little bit longer.

He’s felt so damn _tired_ lately. Run down. Not an exhaustion of the body, but something else, something deeper… 

Coming here is one of the precious few escapes he has. He throws himself into it— the fight, the assessment, the strategizing, the learning— and forgets everything else. Here, he can just be his bare self, look a man eye to eye, find out what he’s made of.

But it’s over now. The best part of his day. His _we_ e _k_ , probably.

It’s all downhill from here…

Kylo sighs, shaking his head.

Ok. Time to move.

  _Now_.

He steps forward, extending a hand to the panel by the door.

But he stops dead just as his palm grazes the metal. He perks up, his senses heightened.

He closes his eyes, concentrating, confirming that the rising feeling is real and not just a shadow. Before long, he opens them, a smile creeping across his lips.

 ** _Finally_**. 

His chest swells, burning with impatience, as the warmth gradually reaches its apex then disappears, leaving only a familiar and welcome presence. He looks down, his smile deepening. Then he turns to face the room.

Rey stands in the center, tall and alert, tilting her head.

She’s smiling too.

She starts towards him but doesn’t take two steps before she slows, noticing the state of the room. She halts outright, looking around, eyebrows knitting together.

“Did…?” She examines a pool of blood beside her. “Did someone just die in here?”

Kylo grunts.

“Not today.” He steps forward. Rey raises an eyebrow.

“First Order training is a bit different than ours, _clearly_.” She looks up with a hint of admonishment, but he continues on, unfazed, stopping only a foot away. 

“Hey.” He never takes his eyes off hers.  

“Hey.” She smiles up at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.   

He lifts a hand to her face, grazing the soft skin with the backs of his fingers. Then he slides down, tilting her chin up as he leans in.

“What are you doing?” She catches her breath.

“Greeting you properly.” He barely answers before his lips connect with hers.

He kisses her softly, then pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes.

She’s surprised, though he can’t imagine how she could be. _She’s_ the one who opened this door the last time they saw each other. And now that she has, he won’t be wasting any time. 

He brings his lips to hers again, his fingers sliding down the curve of her jaw.

She seems nervous at first but soon falls into the rhythm, sliding her palms up his chest as she returns his kisses with her own. She curls a hand behind his neck, pulling his mouth into hers.

He slips a hand behind her waist, drawing her into him, his blood quickening in his veins. Before long, he starts to feel breathless, starved for oxygen, but he can’t stop, can’t keep his lips from seeking hers again and again.

Finally, he pulls back, panting, bringing his lips to her ear.

“I missed you,” he whispers, pulling her body into his.

“I can tell,” she whispers back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He can practically _feel_ her smiling, the kind of involuntary smile that almost hurts.

“It feels like it’s been _forever_.” He tightens his hold on her.

“I know,” she answers softly. He starts kissing the skin behind her ear.

“Where are you?” He murmurs. His lips travel down her neck.

“I’m with you, of course.” She lets out a laugh. He abruptly pulls back, but his face is still close.

“No, I mean before you got here.” His gaze is intense. “Where were you before the bond?”

At this, her face falls.

“Why do you want to know?” She narrows her eyes.

“Why do _you think_ I want to know?” He cocks his head.   

Rey grunts.

“What are you going to do?” She squints at him teasingly. “Show up at a Resistance base to come calling for me?”

“Maybe.” He answers with a glimmer. In an instant, her eyes are wide, bordering on panicked.

“Ben, _no_.” She unwraps her arms from his neck. “Are you _insane_? You can’t do that.”

He sighs, straightening, his hands sliding to her hips.

“Still don’t want anyone finding out about us, huh?” He asks wryly.   

“And _you’re_ not worried about that?” She gapes at him. His eyes drift to the ceiling.

“I can be subtle if I need to be.” He looks back at her. “Can _you?_ ” He raises an eyebrow.

She takes a deep breath, then sighs it out, starting to shake her head.

“That would be a _very_ dangerous game,” she warns him.

He just shrugs.

“Well, lucky for us, you’re good at games.” He leans down with a smirk.

“ _Ben_.” She rolls her eyes but she can’t suppress a smile as their lips connect again, his hand sliding behind her waist.

“ _Come on_ ,” he goads between kisses. “I want to see you.”

“You’re seeing me right now,” she murmurs, melting into him.

“I want to see you _more_ ,” he insists, his lips grazing hers. “I _miss_ you.” He pulls back, dark eyes burning. “I’m not alone in that.”

Rey gazes up softly. She has that look of utter vulnerability, her emotions laid bare on her face, how much she loves this— being in his arms, being close to him. She gulps before forcing herself to look away. She furrows her eyebrows, wrestling inwardly, struggling between competing instincts, the need to be cautious and the need to be near _him_.  

She thinks quietly for a minute.

Then, out of nowhere, her expression changes, brightening, like an idea just sprung to mind.

“Tell you what.” She looks up at him. She pushes against his chest, and his hands slide slowly from her waist. “I will _tell_ you where I am right now…” She backs away from him. “ _If_ …” She raises an index finger. Then she glances around the room with a mischievous glint. “You can beat me in a fight.”

“ _Done_.”

He agrees, practically without thinking.

_Perfect._

Couldn’t have come up with a better idea himself.

He’s been _dying_ to get her in the training room again. Now, he’ll get the pleasure of a fight _and_ he’ll get what he wants. 

Rey lets out a laugh, amused by how quickly he agrees to the challenge.

“Alright then.” She looks up confidently. “What will it be this time? Are there any of those arbir blades here?” She leans to the side, looking around him to the pile of weapons next to the door.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve got something better.” He turns, striding to the south corner of the room. Rey follows close behind, curious.

He makes his way around a few towering structures, seeming to head nowhere, only to a bare wall. He stops just in front it, lifting a hand to the smooth black surface. The moment he touches it, a hidden keypad lights up, red symbols arranged in a circular pattern. He quickly enters a code and a small, squared section of the wall pops out an inch. Kylo reaches over, pulling it out the rest of the way.

Rey gasps once she sees what’s inside.

 _Lightsabers_.    

Four of them are affixed to a sleek, silver bar. Kylo unlatches one and hands it to Rey. She takes it eagerly, eyes fixed on the weapon and not him.

“So… what?” She asks incredulously, running her thumb along the hilt. “You just have some of these stashed away in every training room?”

“In the ones I use, yes,” he answers. “Though there aren’t many here who know how to wield them. And _none_ who can wield them well.” He reaches over to unlatch another.

Rey looks up, surprised.

“You’re not using your own?”

He shakes his head as pushes the compartment back into the wall.

“You don’t have your weapon yet, so I won’t use mine.” He looks over with a glint. “There’s no pleasure in beating you if it’s not a fair fight.”  

She immediately scoffs.

“Well, aren’t you overconfident.”

“I’m not,” he says coolly, turning to walk to the center of the room. “I just know what I’m capable of and what you’re capable of.”

“Are you sure about that?” She follows behind him. “It’s been a while since we’ve fought. I might have learned a thing or two since then.” He hears her saber crackle to life.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” He switches his saber on, a long red blade shooting out with an electric hum. He turns to face her.

She’s several feet away, examining her weapon, a red blade exactly like his. She begins to swing the saber at her side, first the right, then the left, again and again. It glides smoothly through the air, creating that distinctive sound, an electric song.

“I like this training room,” she observes as she continues to weave the saber from side to side. “I like those.” She turns, nodding to one of the tall, curved structures just ahead. She lunges, thrusting the blade at nothing. “I like having something to jump on.”

He watches as she continues trying out her weapon, a faint smile on his lips.

“It’s been a while since I’ve fought with one of these.” She thrusts and parries at an imagined enemy. “But I seem to be getting the hang of it.”

Kylo knits his eyebrows.

“Don’t you have one?” He swings his blade once at his side.

“I did,” she answers absently, still focused on her fight with no one. “But I lost it.”

“ _Lost_ it?” His tone is disapproving. Rey turns to face him, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not like I _misplaced_ it,” she retorts. “Things go bad sometimes. I had to abandon it.” She turns back to resume her imaginary battle.

“It never felt quite right anyway.” She thrusts the blade forward. “Not like my first one. You know, the one you _broke_.” She flashes him an accusing look.

“That one wasn’t yours,” he corrects her. “And _you’re_ the one who broke it.”  

“Alright.” She whips around to face him. “Warm up is over.” She sets her jaw.  

He grunts.

Good.

She’s provoked now. She’s got that look in her eyes, that smoldering determination. It’ll make for a better fight…

Rey lifts her saber straight up, the blade casting a red glow on her cheek. She plants her feet firmly, hardening into a battle stance.

Kylo lifts his own blade, his face falling even.

The lightsabers hum steadily, seeming louder in the quiet of the room.

He eyes Rey for a moment. Then he steps to the side, beginning to circle her.

She doesn’t move. She remains perfectly still, only her eyes following him.

He cocks his head, pausing once he’s directly to her right. Then he continues circling, stepping behind her.

But she still doesn’t move. She’s a statue, frozen in a battle-ready stance. She even _feels_ like a statue, so calm it’s almost inhuman.

He stops just behind her, observing curiously.

Interesting…

Kylo swings his saber at his side, not to attack, just to see if he can get a reaction.

Nothing. She doesn’t even flinch.

He lowers his weapon, staring at her.

She’s learned at least one thing since they last fought. Baiting your opponent into making the first move is a way of controlling them. It’s almost a competition in itself, seeing who the prefight tension breaks first.  

He’ll give her this one.

Why not? Start her off with a confidence boost.

In the next instant, he lunges at her, aiming a hard strike at her back.

She whips around, catching his saber with her own.

He pushes hard against the blade, knocking her back a few steps, but she just goes with the flow, continuing to walk backwards of her own accord. She weaves her saber casually from side to side, a playful look in her eyes.

He bursts forward, whipping his blade once at his side, then aiming a strike at her core.

But she springs into the air, flipping over his head to miss the blow. He immediately turns, deflecting her attack and answering with his own— one, two, three precise strikes, forcing her back.

He keeps her on the defense, reigning down a flurry of blows at all angles, overwhelming her focus. She easily parries, but struggles to counter, his attacks too swift to give her the opportunity.

Suddenly, she ducks, tucking and rolling behind him. He turns to find her flipping towards one of tall structures in the room, this one the shape of a crescent, a flat top and base with a hollowed-out curve for a center. She lands on top of it, crouching.

He races forward, leaping in the air to join her atop the crescent, but she flips off it before he lands. He drops down in pursuit, following her as she leaps through the structure’s center. She abruptly turns for an attack, but he senses her intention, deflecting the strike almost as soon as she makes it.

She doesn’t skip a beat, still managing to take the offense with an instant follow-up, a series of hard slashes—up, down, overhead. He backs away, deflecting, but not for long, seizing the first opportunity to strike, to put her back on the run.

She’s not thrown off by this. Creative evasion is her style. He marvels at how she manages to turn defense into a kind of offense, making excellent use of the environment, leaping on top of and around the tall structures throughout the room, forcing him to change gears often, to expend more energy, both physical and mental, in pursuit.

The room fills with the electric crackle of their sabers, clashing again and again, pausing only in spurts when Rey ducks or runs, redirecting the course of the fight.  

But she has trouble maintaining an attack. Even when she manages to rush at him with a series of blows, he always finds that opening, no matter how small, to break her rhythm, to turn her strikes against her.

He’s always been good that. He’s her opposite in this way. If creative evasion is her style, relentless onslaught is his.

And at the end of the day, fights are won on offense, not defense.

Which is why he’s about to win _this one_. He’s got her boxed into a corner now, pushing her back towards the wall with a rushing blitz of hacking and slashing, furious yet practiced. She’s catching the blows but realizes what’s happening, that she’s in a trap she needs to get out of _now_. She tries to dip down, to tuck and roll herself out of the corner but he always cuts her off with his blade.

She’s just a few feet from the wall. He’ll have her back to it any second now…

He strikes hard, again and again, moving her one step, two steps, three. Finally, he goes for the kill, a heavy swing of his blade, intending to meet hers with a violent upward thrust, pushing it into her face and forcing her against the wall.

But then something strange happens.

He’s not sure what exactly. All he knows is that he _had_ her, she was _there_ , right in front of him and then…

She wasn’t.

She was in the air, leaping over him, landing behind him and bursting forward out of the corner.

He whips around, shaking his head briskly before chasing after her.

He must be tired, more than he realized. He needs to find a way to trap her again, keep her from running him all over the damn training room.

But he soon finds himself drawn back into that infuriating pattern, the one where Rey spends more time in retreat, forcing him to expend energy as he chases her through the room. He takes every chance to strike at her, to draw her into a duel, their sabers clashing in spits and crackles.

But she never engages for long, always finding a way to turn the battle into a pursuit. She runs and ducks and flips, jumping over and around the tall structures scattered about the room. He flies after her, close behind but never close enough.

She’ll leap atop a thick block of metal only the leap off the moment he follows. She’ll whip around, seeming to strike, but tuck and roll behind him instead. He’ll rush at her, saber drawn, but instead of meeting his attack, she’ll flip right over him, racing off in the opposite direction.

And all he can do is charge after her, panting, soaked in sweat, desperately trying to _pin her_ _down_.

This is getting old. _Very_ old…

He starts to feel that itch, that fire in his blood, rising, spreading, consuming his limbs with dark energy. That addictive feeling sets in, an explosion of strength and speed that’s at once wild and controlled, pure power surging through his body.

He flies at her, seeming to move at lightspeed, gaining on her so quickly she barely whips around in time to catch his blade crashing overhead. He rages forward, his saber a red blur of fury, striking so hard and so fast she can barely fend him off.

She grows frenzied, overwhelmed, her focus consumed by his fiery rain of blows. He’s backing her into a corner again, one with a long, L-shaped structure blocking the left side.

The walls are closing in on her. She’s got fewer places to run, and she can’t think straight, can’t reason, only react.

He cuts up, down, across, aggressively filling the space around her, leading her into the corner, inch by inch.

Time to _finish_ this.

He catches her blade dead center, then immediately thrusts forward, locking his hilt with hers. He pushes forcefully and she staggers back, nearly tripping. She gasps, wide-eyed, then ducks behind the L-shaped structure. He whips after her, swinging to strike—

But no one’s there.

He stops dead, gaping.

_What the…?_

“Question.”

Kylo looks up to find Rey perched atop the structure.

“If you can’t catch me, does that mean I win, or is it a draw?” She cocks her head.

He shoots into the air, fuming, landing on the block of metal in an instant.

But she’s already mid back-flip.  

He leaps down with a growl, flying at her the second he hits the ground. He catches up with a furious onslaught, rage _burning_ through him as he hacks and slashes, filling the room with the violent clash of their sabers, again and again and _again_ —

Suddenly, he stumbles forward, shocked to find his blade literally _miss_ Rey’s— her saber, her body in front of him one second, then gone the next.

The end of his blade slices though the matted surface of the training room floor. He gapes at the burn, then looks up, searching for Rey.

She’s just ahead, only a couple of steps to the side.   

He stares at her, dumbfounded, sweat dripping from his face.

“Ben?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stares, panting, the fog of rage clearing slowly. He replays the scene in his mind, what just happened.

It takes him a minute. But as he catches his breath, as that fire in his blood recedes, the pieces start to fall together.

He felt it that time. A ripple in the Force. Subtle but…

That’s when the realization creeps in.

Kylo narrows his eyes. Then he switches off his weapon.

“Ben, what’s wrong?”

Rey turns off her saber, looking concerned. 

He purses his lips. Then he brings his hands behind his back, clasping his wrist with one and gripping his weapon with the other. He studies her closely.

“So…” He takes a step towards her. “You can control it now.”  

“Control what?” She looks confused.

“You _know_ what.” He raises his eyebrows, stopping just in front of her.

“Ben, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He grunts, both amused and annoyed.

“Yes, _you do_.” He keeps his eyes fixed on hers.

She just shrugs, utterly ingenuous.  

They stare at one another a moment.

“What was it you called it?” He glances to the ceiling. “Force freezing?” He looks back down at her.

 She stares back with an even expression.

“Ben, you must be tired.” Her tone is condescending. “You’re imagining things.”

“Is that right?” He cocks his head.

She thinks she’s being _so_ _clever_ …

Rey keeps up the charade, knitting eyebrows like she’s concerned.

“You know, if you’re tired, we can just stop this right now.” She crosses her arms. “There’s no shame in that.”

 “ _Rey…_ ” He draws out her name like a warning.

She continues feigning ignorance.

“Rey, come on.” He starts to lose patience. “Stop playing games. I can _feel_ what you’re doing.”

At this, her eyes flicker. She stares at him for a moment, considering whether or not to come clean.

Finally, she drops her arms at her sides, her expression changing from concern to just the slightest flash of guilt.

He shakes his head.

“Start talking,” he demands. “How long have you been able to control it?”

She glances from side to side, a bit sheepish.

“Well…” She laughs a little. She steps behind him, walking a few steps away. “Control… isn’t exactly the word I would use.”

“Ok.” He turns around. “So, what word would you use then?”

“Maybe…” She turns to face him. “Access? But only in specific situations.”

“What situations?”

“Well, this one, primarily.” She gestures to the room. “A fight or a chase. Any time when my adrenaline is up.”

“So…” He furrows his eyebrows. “You’re not doing it at will?”

“Not _exactly_ …” She seems unsure of this answer. “It’s more like…” She takes a breath. “A reaction.”

Kylo tilts his head.

“So, you’re doing it on accident?”

“Sometimes, yes.” She nods. “But not always. It’s like you said. I did it on instinct the first few times, but the more I do it, the more I notice a pattern, what’s happening.”

“And what exactly _is_ happening?” He probes.

“Well…” Rey squints at the ceiling. “It’s strange. I’m still not entirely sure. I haven’t been doing what I did the first time. Then, it was like I froze the whole forest _indefinitely_. But since then, it’s just been flashes. A couple of seconds, maybe. At first, I thought I was imagining things…” She widens her eyes. “But then I kept doing it. Usually in a fight. And the more I did it, the more I sensed it, these moments where the air shifted and time just seemed to stop.”

“So, when you do this…” He starts slowly. “It’s just in reaction, never by choice?”

“I’m _starting_ to do it by choice,” she emphasizes. “But I can only do it in reaction to something. For example, I couldn’t do it right now. But if we were fighting, there’d be moments where the opportunity presented itself. I’d _feel_ it, only for a split second, and I can either act on it or let it pass. Though…” She drops her shoulders. “I still do it by accident a lot. Not that I’m complaining.” She shrugs. “Accident or not, it’s _quite_ useful, especially when you’re fighting slavers with flamethrowers.” She lets out a wry laugh. “I’d be _roasted_ Rey right now if it weren’t for Force freezing.” 

Kylo sucks in a breath.

Great.

Just what he needs. More fodder for his imagination, thinking about all the ways Rey nearly gets herself killed.

Though…

This freezing ability is something else. Even if it’s only a few seconds, in a fight, that’s the difference between life and death.

And if she can ever learn to control it, if she can ever do at will what she did to those men in the forest…

There may come a day when Rey is damn near _impossible_ to kill.

“Have you tried doing it again?” He steps towards her. “Have you tried doing what you did in the forest, freezing an environment for longer than just a few seconds?”

“ _Oh, no_ ,” Rey huffs, taking a couple of steps back. “I don’t do that anymore. I don’t drive myself crazy _trying_ to do things. Honestly, these days…” She switches on her lightsaber. “I don’t think about it much at all. I just do it.” She begins twirling her weapon absently.

Kylo gapes at her.

“So…” He shakes his head briskly. “You’re telling me that you’ve been doing something that, as far as anyone knows, has _never_ been done before and _you_ don’t think about it too much?”

“Yep.” She turns, weaving her saber from side to side.

“Rey.” He scoffs. “How can you _not_ —”

“Ben, listen,” she interrupts, whirling her blade around her. “I’m _done_ trying to figure out things that are beyond my capacity to understand. It was driving me _insane_.” She walks away a few steps. “But ever since you put me on the memory walk, things have been better. _A lot_ better.”

At this, he purses his lips, intrigued.

“How so?” He follows her with his eyes.

“Well, _for example_ …” She lunges, thrusting her saber. “I’ve been healing recently. I healed someone not three days ago, in fact.”

His eyebrows immediately shoot up.

“And it was no flesh wound either.” She casts a glance at him, proud of herself. “Rose told me I repaired a major artery in a boy’s neck. Saved his life.” She tosses her saber into the air, then catches it handily. “And I did it practically without trying.”

Kylo studies her, growing more and more curious but also… _unsettled_.

What she’s telling him makes _zero sense at all_. No one just wakes up one day to find they can heal a major wound, without training, without study, without even ever having seen it done before…

“That’s…” He sputters. “Good. Good for you. But I don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand either.” She cuts him off, twirling her saber around her. “But I don’t have to understand in order to do. _That’s_ what I learned from the memory walk.” She picks up her pace, filling the air with an electric whir. “I don’t use the Force. The Force uses me. And I don’t have to understand the Force, or what it wants from me, in order to trust it.” She thrusts her blade forward. “All I have to do is have a little faith.”

Kylo furrows his eyebrows. He watches as Rey hops around the training room, parrying and thrusting at no one, like a little girl at play.

It’s unbelievable. It’s _unheard of_.

A child. A nobody.

Doing things through the Force that have _never_ been done before. Without training. Without even trying.

He watches her closely, in awe of the pure _power_ , the possibility, just the _idea_ of her.

But beneath the awe is something else, a strange kind of burning in his chest.

If Snoke had even the _slightest clue_ what she was truly capable of, he never would have ordered Kylo to kill her. To throw out not only raw but _creative_ power, power that can conjure new uses of the Force out of _thin air_ …?

No. Snoke would have kept her around. He would have taken her on as an apprentice.

And he would have killed Kylo. Not that he wasn’t planning on doing that already…

Rey whips around, redirecting her imaginary assault, stepping forward with one strike, two strikes—

Suddenly, she halts, seeming to just notice Kylo staring at her. She straightens, lowering her weapon.

“What?” She asks self-consciously. 

He stares at her for a moment.  

Then he brings his hand from behind his back, looking down at his lightsaber.

“Do you ever wonder…?” He runs his thumb along the hilt. “Do you ever wonder why you’re like this?” He glances at her.

“What do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows.

He looks down at his saber. Then he turns on the weapon.

“I mean…” He examines the red blade. “Do you ever wonder how you’re able to just do things?” He swings the saber at his side. “Things like healing. Freezing. Without any training.” He looks up.

She’s just staring at him, taken aback by the question. He looks away again.

“I trained for years, you know.” He slices his blade once through the air, hard and swift. “ _Years_. With the Jedi. With Snoke. Long, hard years…” He glides his saber to the left, then the right. Suddenly, he switches it off. “And I can’t do the things you can do.”

At this, Rey’s eyes flicker.

“I—” She starts but immediately stops, not sure what to say. She switches off her own weapon. “I have no idea why I’m like this.” She shakes her head slowly. “I try not to think about it too much anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She looks down. “Because it scares me,” she finishes at a whisper. She stares into the floor, her eyes hollow and faraway. He feels her well with deep uncertainty, a fear that cuts straight through the bone.

And just like that, everything he’s feeling fades to the background, eclipsed by a stronger emotion.

Compassion.

He watches her silently.

“Do you know…” He suddenly speaks, taking a step towards her. She looks up, guarded. “Why Snoke was so intent on having me as his apprentice?” She shakes her head.

“It was because of my bloodline,” he informs her, taking another step. “There are powerful Force-sensitives in my family, in the light and the dark. Snoke…” He halts just a foot away. “He thought I’d encompass the strength of _both_ aspects, a strange kind of hybrid. But by the end of things…” He looks down. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Maybe… it ultimately just means I’m unstable, torn by the weaknesses of both. And because of that, I’ll always be…” He hardens his jaw. “Flawed.”

Rey’s heart instantly sinks.   

“ _Ben_ —”  

“My point,” he interrupts, looking up at her. “Is that maybe, somehow, you _really are_ the best of both aspects. And because of that, you’re something else entirely. Maybe that’s why you can do things so easily, things that no one else can do.” He leans in, dark eyes fixed on hers.

She gazes up at him with a kind of wonder. But she also seems uncertain. She casts a glance to the side.

 “I think…” She starts after a few moments. “That everything I can do…” Her lips curve upward. “ _You_ could do too.” She looks up at him.

He grunts.

“Is that right?”

“Sure,” she answers casually. “Why not?” She starts to back away. “Under the right circumstances.” She switches on her saber.

“What do you mean?” He juts his chin out.

“I mean…” Rey begins weaving her blade a from side to side.  “Maybe all your training is what’s holding you back. Maybe Skywalker, Snoke… both of them tried to force you into a mold you were never meant to fill. But if you were allowed to grow, _unrestrained_ , on your own accord…?” She raises a suggestive eyebrow.  

He looks away, twitching his jaw.

“You know…” He hears the rhythmic hum of her saber curving up and down. “I took your advice. I talked with the kyber crystals about my Force abilities. I couldn’t figure out how to ask them about the freezing, but I did ask them about the Force. I asked about the dark and the light. Do you know what they said?” Suddenly, the electric rhythm stops. He looks up.

“They _laughed_ at me.” She leans forward with a glint, her weapon down at her side. “They thought I was absurd. They kept telling me there’s only one Force.”

Kylo straightens, struck by this.

“So, they didn’t recognize the concepts of dark and light at all?” He presses.

“Oh, they recognized them alright,” she answers wryly. “They recognized them as _wrong_. Then they started arguing about a bunch of things I didn’t understand.” She rolls her eyes. “But it just goes to show that maybe the Force isn’t what people think it is. Maybe it’s more complicated. Or maybe it’s simpler.” She glances down.

“Who knows?” She shrugs. “Who knows what’s true? Maybe no one will ever know. _But_ …” She slides her jaw to the side. “I’m ok with that.” She nods a few times. “Like I said, I don’t have know in order to trust. I’m perfectly fine just relying on my instincts and having a little faith.” She looks up with a glimmer. “You should try it some time.” She squints at him. “Maybe you’ll find you can do things you never even _imagined_.”

Kylo doesn’t react to this. Not externally. He just studies Rey, his arms crossed, his expression neutral.

But inside he’s churning.

Part of him is dismissive, wary to put too much stock into anything she says. Who is she, after all, to speculate about such things?

No one. She’s ignorant.

Then again…

Maybe that’s _exactly_ what makes her opinion valuable.

Her views aren’t twisted by anyone else’s. She hasn’t been taught to see the Force a certain light, to use it in a certain way. She just calls things like she sees them, based on nothing but her own feelings, her own experiences.

And look where it’s gotten her so far…

His gaze drifts down as he descends deeper into his thoughts.

There’s something seductive about the idea that both Luke _and_ Snoke were wrong, that both were ultimately unfit to be his teacher.

Maybe Rey’s right. Maybe _no one_ is fit to be his teacher. Maybe being under someone else’s thumb has been the problem all along. Maybe it put his power in restraints, kept it from growing the way it was _meant_ to. Maybe—

“Are we going to finish this?”

He jerks up, jarred by the interruption. Rey nods to the lightsaber still gripped in his hand. He uncrosses his arms, looking down at the saber.

“I don’t know…” He switches on the weapon. “Are you going to keep freezing me?” He squints at her accusingly. She rolls her eyes.

“I _told_ you I can’t control it, Ben,” she admonishes. “I mean, I can _try_ but—”

“You know…” He whips his saber at his side. “I could be using _a lot_ more than just my Force senses in this fight,” he warns darkly.

Rey sighs.

“Do what you think is fair.” She shakes her head, annoyed. “And I’ll try not to freeze you. _Try_.”  She lifts a finger. “No promises.”

“Fine,” he deadpans. He raises his weapon, resuming a battle-ready stance.

She eyes him warily before doing the same, lifting her saber straight at her side.

Neither of them move a muscle. They just stand a few feet apart, staring at one another in silence. The only sound is the low, electric hum filling the room.

A minute passes.

Kylo doesn’t budge.

Finally, Rey squares her shoulders, stepping backwards. She begins swinging her saber from side to side, again and again, creating that rising and falling rhythm.

In the next instant, she bursts forward, rushing at him head on, her weapon raised high overhead. He moves to meet her but she flips into the air a second before the strike lands, disappearing behind him.

He whips around, then sucks in a breath, annoyed to find her on the run, racing towards a three-tiered structure just ahead.

He growls under his breath, then shoots after her, gaining ground quickly, following her up the steps of the structure. Just as she reaches the top, she turns with a strike, taking the high ground, reigning down a flurry of blows, trying to push him off the step.

But he breaks her offense, catching her blade at an angle and thrusting to the side, throwing off her balance. He leaps atop of the structure, a small rectangular platform, and starts in with fiery reign of strikes, hard and precise.

This is _not_ an ideal environment to duel with him and she knows it. The space is too small and he’s too aggressive. He’ll push her to the edge in no time.

He forces her back quickly—one steps, two steps, three. Suddenly, she dips down, crouching to leap to the ground but he was _ready_ for this. He leaps off just as she does, meeting her with an instant assault.

He aims his blows strategically, turning her back to the broad side of the structure as he fills the space directly in front. She barely has room to fend him off now, much less mount an offense, only a couple of feet between her and the structure behind her.

She moves to dodge, and he swings his blade swiftly, aiming to cut her off. 

But she disappears before the strike hits.

“ _Hey!_ ”

He whips around to find Rey a couple of feet to the side, holding a hand up defensively.

“That was an accident!” She says hastily. “I didn’t mean to do it that time.”

He narrows his eyes.

“It _was_ ,” she insists, wide-eyed.

He just stares at her coldly.

She blows out a puff of air, exasperated, but her expression soon changes, a flash of challenge in her eyes.

“What are you going to do about it?” She looks him up and down.

**_That’s it._ **

_Now_ she’s going to _get it._

He flies at her with a furious blast of swinging and striking, at once wild and focused— up, down, all around— his blade a red blur as he hits again and again and _again_ , harder, faster, an impenetrable wall.

She can barely hold him off, staggering back as she fends off his blows, her heart racing, growing more frenzied, less able to focus.

She’ll be ducking or flipping her way out of this any second now. They’re in wide open space in the middle of the training room, no towering structures close by, no corners to back her into.

She’d just freeze her way out of it, anyway.

But then, just for a split second, he sees it, a flash of memory, the first time he fought Rey in the training room.

He abruptly halts, switching off his lightsaber and tossing it to the side.

Rey jerks back, shocked, following the weapon with her eyes.

And when she does, he Force-calls her saber right out of her hand and into his.

In the next instant, his grabs her wrist and jerks her to him, twisting her arm behind her back.

 _Got her_.

He has her pinned now, holding her in place with an arm gripping her body firmly, her right arm trapped between her back and his chest. She squirms and wriggles, but he only grips her more tightly.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he gloats. “You’re not getting out of this one.” He switches off the saber and drops it.

She tries to stomp a heel on the toe of his boot but he dodges just in time.

“Don’t even try it,” he warns. She twists and writhes, trying to break free, but he tightens his hold, swallowing her body with his.

“Force freezing or not, you can’t beat me.” He smirks down at her, relishing in the spoils of victory, having her trapped in his arms.

“Oh yeah?” She challenges, still squirming. “Well, maybe it could’ve. Maybe I had the opportunity but didn’t take it. Maybe I _let_ you catch me.” He squeezes her tightly, bringing his lips to her ear.

“Now you’re being a _sore loser_.” He barely gets out the words before releasing and twisting her to face him, capturing her lips with his own.

He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into him, his mouth opening into hers.

She doesn’t skip a beat, weaving her fingers into his hair, gripping dark locks and pulling him down as she meets him flame for flame, pouring out her passion into hot, wet kisses, her tongue thrusting against his.

He tightens his hold, lifting her from the floor as he grasps her flesh, the warm curves of her body covered by thin fabric. He takes her again and again, breathing her in, the intoxicating scent of her, losing himself in the passion, the fire, the way she grips his broad shoulder, the way she presses her body against his.

Suddenly, he stops, gasping for air as he lowers her to the floor.

“I won, fair and square,” he insists, breathless, dark eyes fixed on hers. “Tell me where you are.”

Rey looks up at him, panting, her cheeks flushed. He’s still gripping her waist, his eyes burning, never breaking away.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, to let the heat die down. He watches as the fire gradually recedes from her eyes, her expression growing soft. She takes a deep inhale, then looks away, pressing her lips together.

“I’m at the training base on Dorajan.” She finally looks back at him. “But I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

At this, his shoulders drop.

“To go where?” He probes, unwilling to give up so easily.

“Scouting mission on Kessel,” she answers. “I’ll be under cover, searching for a way to sneak slaves out of the salt mines.”

He groans, resting his forehead against hers.

“Tell me you’re not going alone this time.”

“I’ll be with a team, Ben,” she assures with a hint of annoyance. “But I don’t know for how long. The mission’s estimate is anywhere from three days to a week.”

“And then?” He pulls away but his face is still close, only an inch from hers.

“Who knows?” Rey shrugs. “Since I’ve been leading this anti-slavery initiative, I’ve been _all over_ the place. I’m lucky if I stay anywhere for more than a couple of days. And now that we’re trying to build this escape network…” She looks to the ceiling, shaking her head. “I’ll be on the move even more. And _busy_.” She widens her eyes.

He sighs heavily, dropping his forehead to hers.

“Ben,” Rey says gently, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “You know I want to see you. You know I _miss_ you.” She pulls back, cupping his face with a hand. “But things are so complicated right now, in more ways than one. It’ll be hard enough for us to be in the same place at the same time. And to try to keep things secret on top of that…?”

He closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“But we’ll always have the bond.” She caresses his cheek with a thumb. “We can always count on it to bring us together.”

“The bond _takes too long_.” He grits his teeth. “Rey, I am _sick_ of waiting on the bond.” His eyes snap open, and he lifts his hands to frame her face. “I want to _see_ you, _really_ see you. Not at random but at _will_.” He gazes down at her, searching, pleading.

She looks up at him, all his desire and longing reflected in her eyes. He strokes back strands of her hair, then lets a hand slide down to her waist, gripping her hip and pulling her close as his lips descend to her ear.

“Please, Rey,” he whispers. “Please.” He feels her melt into him, her body relaxing against his.

They stand like this for a minute, reveling in the closeness, the skin-to-skin touch, his lips at her ear, her hand curled behind his neck.

“You know…” Rey finally speaks, slipping a palm to his chest, pushing back, only enough to look him in the eyes. “I’d been trying _so hard_ to heal after I did it that first time. I tried and tried and tried, but then…” She shrugs. “You put me on that memory walk, and I just stopped trying. Then, just like that.” She snaps her fingers. “I started doing it. And I started freezing too.”

Kylo knits his eyebrows.

“Rey, what does this have to do with—”

“My point,” she interrupts him. “Is that maybe we should approach our relationship the same way. Maybe we shouldn’t drive ourselves mad _trying_ to make it happen. Maybe we should just trust in the bond, trust in the Force, and let things play out naturally.”

He rolls his eyes, groaning.

“ _Ben_.” She lifts a hand to his face, and he looks down with a sigh. “ _You’re_ the one who’s always saying that we’re meant to be together.” She raises her eyebrows. “If that really is our fate, then it will happen regardless of what either of us do. And if we ever cross paths outside of the bond, like we did at Apatros, it will be because we’re _meant_ to.”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched.

He will _never_ understand this.

He will _never_ understand how she can be _so intent_ on letting things remain out of her control, just floating through life, drifting aimlessly, never fighting the current, never forging her own path…

“Come on, Ben,” She goads gently, her hand still at his cheek. “All I’m asking you to do is _believe_ in us and… have a little faith.”  

She looks up at him softly, so calm, so knowing. He gazes down at her, his jaw twitching, caught between frustration, how much he _hates_ this passive inclination of hers, and the brightness in her eyes, how they seem to contain the whole universe. It feels like if he looked long enough, he’d see it, their whole future laid out before him, all the twists and turns on the way to their destination, what they’re ultimately meant to be.

At the end of the day, he has no faith in the Force. He has no faith in the bond. The only thing he’s ever really trusted is himself, what he can _make_ happen, through his actions, through sheer will.

But for some reason… he feels like he could have faith in her. He can trust in what he knows she feels for him. He can trust that she wants him, that in spite of all she’s saying, she will seek him out, driven not by intent but instinct, the need to feel complete.   

Maybe…

Maybe he can trust in that.  

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Rey vanishes, her warm body in his arms one second, then gone the next.

He jerks back, jarred, looking up and around the room, half expecting to see her standing only a couple of feet away.

But no.

The room is empty. Utterly empty.  

He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping. He closes his eyes, fighting back that feeling, that hollow, aching loneliness that always follows the bond. He tenses, clenching his fists.

Then he stoops down, slowly, and sweeps the lightsaber from the floor. He looks down at it for a moment before making his way over to the other one. With both weapons in hand, he turns, walking to the south end of the room.

He secures the sabers back in their place then heads for the exit, gradually adopting his signature stride, swift and purposeful steps.

This time, he doesn’t pause at the door. He slaps the panel next to it, charging right through, startling a row a cleaning droids waiting sleepily just outside. He hardly glances at them as he walks by, his focus sharp, fixed on his destination.

He needs to clean himself up and get back to work.

The prospect of returning to the grind doesn’t seem so crushing now.

It’s partially because he’s gotten some release, a chance to truly forget about it all. But it’s mostly because he’s been reminded of his motivation, why this is all worth it.

It’s not just his destiny.

It’s _their_ destiny.

He’s building an empire, not just for himself but for _them_ , the combined force that will rule it.

He thinks about Rey. He thinks about their fight. He thinks about her rapidly developing Force abilities, what she could become, what _they_ could become together.

It’ll be one for the ages, the moment they finally unite as leaders. Then, the galaxy will see power like it has _never_ seen before…

His chest swells with satisfaction, only slightly tempered by the memory of his conversation with Rey, her insistence that they leave things up to fate.

He grunts.

He’ll just have to find a way to give her what he _knows_ she wants, an opportunity to initiate contact with him, to see him outside of the bond.

After all…

There’s nothing wrong with giving fate a little push. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I’d be getting back to a two-week update schedule again, but… but… Christmas! I’m going to try to update before the new year, but if worse comes to worst, chapter 30 will be up by January 5th at the latest. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Happy holidays, ya’ll! I hope you have a great one!


	30. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey makes a new friend.

The crolute sits at the bar, swaying to the music and slapping a fat hand against his thigh. He barely fits in the chair, folds of flesh pouring over the sides of the seat, contained only by threadbare pants.

Every so often, he glances at Rey sitting beside him, a long, lingering glance.

But she just keeps her eyes forward, fixed on the disordered rows of bottles lining the back of bar. He’s tried to talk to her a couple of times, but she just pretends not to understand him.

So now he’s staring.

Rey grips her half empty drink, cursing whatever cruel twist of fate has made her a magnet for the leering eyes of crolutes.

And she thought those days were behind her…

She shifts away from him, turning to observe the rest of the scene.

The cantina is vibrant, like a living thing unto itself. The air is filled with the swinging beat of the band, three massive Kitonaks huddled together on a small platform, clumsily swaying from side to side, bumping bellies as they play their instruments.

It seems like everyone’s in motion, swept up by the beat of the music.

There’s a towering Yarkora standing in front of the platform, arms in the air, waving wildly, his tail swishing as he yells nonsensical words of praise for the band. A group of hooded Dressellians sit close by, each of them bobbing and tapping their feet, almost in exact unison. Even a service droid rocks its snout-shaped head as it rolls by with a trey full of drinks.

Rey smiles to herself as she turns to face the bar.

She should enjoy this while she can. It’s not often that she gets to hear live music, and these fellows aren’t half bad. The atmosphere is warm, full of laughter and chit chat. There hasn’t been a single fight since she arrived, something of a miracle given the roughneck crowd.

Yes, she should just sit back and soak it all in— the music, the gaiety, the peace.

But even as she thinks this, she’s reaching into her pouch, pulling out a chrono to check the time. She casts a downward glance, then slips the device back into her pouch.

Daja’s late.

But not terribly late. It could be a good thing, really… After all, Rey’s meeting was quite short and look how that turned out.

Not that she blames Yana for her decision. The woman has a business to run, thousands in her employ, people with mouths to feed. If she were to volunteer her warehouses to hide runaway slaves, she could become a target, _especially_ given the kinds of slaves she’d be hiding.

Rey’s going after the big fish now, slavers who operate across multiple systems, the kind who will chase down missing property for no other reason than to make an example of them. They’ve got vast resources— veritable armies at their beck and call, spies feeding them all manner of intel, and a network of businesses under their thumb.

But Rey’s building her own network.

She and Daja are one of a dozen pairs going from system to system, seeking out powerful locals who might be willing to volunteer a haven for runaway slaves. The goal is to create a secret path of safe houses to usher new escapees to permanent freedom, a place for them to lay low while the slavers are hot in pursuit.  

The only problem is that so many are utterly _terrified_ of what might happen if they get caught. These big-name crime lords could make life hell for them if they wanted to— cut off their access to trade routes, squeeze their businesses dry, even destroy their homes. It’s quite a risk, what Rey’s asking. She can hardly begrudge those who turn her down.

But Daja should have more luck.

If the Daughters of Q’anah are half of what people say they are, then they fear _no one_. They’re pirates, after all. They _already_ steal property from the galaxy’s most vicious crime lords. Surely, they’d be open to smuggling a different kind of property, the kind that lives and breathes, that shouldn’t be considered property at all.

Surely…

Rey drums her fingers on the bar, trying to quell a nervous feeling in her gut.

The Daughters aren’t exactly saints, though. They don’t hesitate to kill, and if rumors are to be believed, they relish the opportunity to show they can be just as vicious as the people they steal from.

It’s enough to make Rey worry.

Just a little.

But Daja can handle herself. She’s the perfect one for the job, really. She’s got the swagger of a pirate, a smart mouth and a rebel spirit. She’s fearless. She’s capable. In a different life, she could _be_ a Daughter of Q’anah.

Yes, there’s no reason to worry. No reason at all…

Rey continues drumming her fingers but soon stops, flattening her hand on the surface. She sits up, squaring her shoulders and taking another look around. She accidentally catches the eye of the crolute and he flashes a gap-toothed grin.

She immediately looks away.

She resists the urge to check the time again, trying to relax instead, enjoy the atmosphere. She takes a deep breath and without quite realizing it, closes her eyes, melting into the environment.

The cantina is abuzz with conversation, dozens of exchanges blending together into a low roar. If she concentrates, she can pick out individuals from the mass…

There’s a couple speaking in Bocce, gossiping about a local merchant named Shah Kin. Apparently, he’s been fooling around with his competitor’s wife…

A man is arguing with a service droid about his tab, claiming it overcharged him for the last three orders.

There’s a group speaking in what Rey can only describe as honks and clicks. It’s not a language she understands. She’s not even sure how many are talking… three maybe? No four.

A couple next to them discuss a First Order sighting, a dreadnaught near Asmaru. They wonder what it could mean. The leading theory is that Kylo Ren is looking to run a new a trade route through the system…

Rey’s eyes snap open.

She shakes her head briskly, struggling to regain her focus. She takes a deep inhale and reaches into her pouch, pulling out the chrono. She glances down, then shoves it back in.

Five more minutes.

She’ll wait for five more minutes, and if Daja doesn’t show up, then she’ll go after her.

Rey rests forearms on the bar, shoulders hunched, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

It’s stupid.

There’s no reason to worry. She’s only late because she was _successful_.

Probably.

Lots of questions to answer, concerns to address—

Suddenly, Rey snaps up. She leaps to her feet and turns to face the cantina, eagerly searching the crowd.

Daja’s pushing her way past a couple of horned Davorians. As she gets closer, Rey senses her emotions, a kind of adrenaline-charged frenzy mixed with anger.

Rey’s shoulders drop.

Things did not go well.

Daja charges straight up to Rey, flushed and out of breath.

“I don’t know,” Daja halts just in front of her, “ _what I did_ to piss those bitches off but—” She takes a giant gulp of air. “Whatever it was, they nearly killed me for it.” She exhales, widening her eyes.

Rey opens her mouth to speak but suddenly stops, turning her head.  

There’s a young man standing next to Daja. She’d seen him trailing behind her when she came in but just assumed he was another patron.

“Who’s this?” Rey points to their unidentified guest.

“ _No one_.” Daja practically yells this, shoving him away. “Just some jackass.”

The young man staggers back.

“Some way to refer to the guy who just saved your life.” He knits his eyebrows.

“You _did not_ save my life.” Daja whips around, pointing a finger in his face. “I had things under control. I didn’t need your help.”

“Uh… _yeah_ , you did.” He crosses his arms. “And I didn’t have to. Just like I didn’t have to see you back safely to your friend.” He nods to Rey. “But I did it anyway. Even though you’ve called me a jackass three times now.” He lifts three fingers as he mouths the number for emphasis.

Daja glares at him.

“Fine,” she deadpans. “You saved my life. I’m eternally grateful. Now, go away, jackass.” She turns back to Rey, twitching.

“You Resistance people are rude, you know that?” He grumbles.

“And you First Order people are _slimy_ ,” Daja retorts.

Rey jerks back.

“You’re with the First Order?” She demands, examining him.

He doesn’t look like a member of the First Order _at all_ — no uniform, no insignia, no indication of rank or position. And he’s so young, barely a man… 

“Yep.” He perks up, beaming with pride. For the first time, he directs his full attention to Rey. His gaze drifts down then back up, a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

“I gotta say…” His lips turn up slyly. “You’re pretty cute for a Resistance fighter.” He winks at her.

Daja immediately scoffs.

“Ok, time for you to—”

“What’s your name?” Rey studies the young man closely.

“Sylas Bonden.” He offers his hand with a smile.

Rey eyes him warily for a moment. Then she lifts a hand, meeting his with a gentle grip.

“Thanks for taking care of my friend, Sylas.” She nods at him.

“You’re _welcome_.” Sylas leans towards Rey, but shoots Daja a pointed look.

Daja growls under her breath.

“And what do you do for the First Order?” Rey tilts her head.

“ _I_ …” He gestures to himself with a little flair. “Am in charge of a very…” His eyes drift upward. “ _Special_ subset of negotiations.”

“Special?” She raises eyebrow.

“ _Yeah_ …” He draws out the word. “Not your standard resource exchanges, ones that require a little… finesse.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Then he steps to the side, sliding onto the seat once inhabited by the crolute. “Let me buy you a drink.” He pats the bar. “I’ll tell you all about it. Or what I’m allowed to tell, anyways.” He winks again.

Daja laughs, incredulous.

“Kid, you’ve got some nerve. You think—”  

“Sure.” Rey shrugs.  

Daja’s jaw drops.

She closes and opens her eyes, like she’s trying to register what she just heard. Then she lunges towards Rey, gripping her arm and dragging her a few paces from the bar.

She halts, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You’re just messing with this guy, right?” She searches her face, eager for confirmation.

“No.” Rey shakes her head. “I’d like to hear more about him.”

Daja laughs breathlessly, turning away.

“ _Really_ , Rey…?” She whips back around. “ _Really_ …?” She balks. “I mean…you know you can do _a lot_ better than that guy, right? _A lot_ better.”

Rey sighs.

“Daja, I’m not interested in _dating_ him.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m interested in _learning_ about him. He works for the First Order and he’s _volunteering_ information. He could know something useful.”

“And you don’t think he’s up to the _same thing?_ ” Daja whispers, casting a glance at Sylas. “Maybe he’s just trying to trick you into revealing Resistance secrets.”

“Yes, and it’s an awful shame I’m so susceptible to that kind of manipulation.” Rey squints teasingly.

Daja grunts, leaning back.

“Point taken,” she says dryly. “But you still need to be careful.” She wrinkles her nose as she turns to Sylas. “That guy’s… _slippery_ ,” she finishes with narrowed eyes. “Don’t let your guard down.”

“Daja.” Rey lifts a hand to her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re _well aware_ that I can handle myself.” She nods at her. “You don’t have to stay. Go back to the Falcon. Recover. I’ll meet you there in an hour, and we’ll be on our way.”

Daja lets out a huff, twitching with reluctance. She looks over at Sylas, then back to Rey. She sets her jaw.

“Fine.” She pushes out an exhale. “I’m going.” She steps around Rey, shaking her head.

“But _watch yourself_.” She suddenly steps back, finger pointed.

“Always,” Rey responds with a glimmer.

Daja sighs heavily, then looks down, eyebrows furrowed.

“Ok.” She starts to nod. “Ok.”

Finally, she turns and heads to the cantina’s entrance, shoulders hunched, churning with a strange mixture of worry and guilt.

Rey tilts her head, watching her leave, both confused and touched by Daja’s concern, the deep sense of responsibility she feels towards Rey.   

What a good friend.

So loyal, so protective, almost motherly sometimes…

She turns back to face the bar.

Sylas is chatting with the bartender, a bipedal droid with a long neck and a snout for a head. He’s gesturing to a bottle to the left. The droid nods and begins ambling towards it. Sylas looks back and catches Rey’s eye. He smiles, waving for her to join him.  

She steps forward.

He looks her over as she slips onto the chair, and Rey does the same to him.

He’s lean with pale skin, like he spends most of his time in space. He has dark hair and eyes, a long, narrow face with a small nose and high cheekbones. He’s handsome in a boyish way. Pretty might be the better word.

He looks confident, but he’s a bit nervous.

“So…” Sylas points to the bartender. “Have you ever had Ipellrilla firewater before?”

Rey shakes her head.

“ _Well_ …” Sylas sits up. “I _think_ you’re gonna like it. It’s not too high in alcohol,” he assures her. “And it does this cool thing where it comes in sweet but goes down hot, like, well, fire.” He laughs awkwardly.

They both look up when the droid returns with two cups, steam wafting from the top. It places one in front of Sylas and one in front of Rey, then ambles to a hooded Dresselian waiting at the end of the bar.

Rey pulls the cup closer, finding it warm to the touch, and looks inside to see clear, red liquid faintly visible through the steam.

“Another cool thing about firewater…” Sylas reaches for his drink. “Is that it’s always warm. _Always_. You don’t even have to heat it.” He takes a dramatic sniff. “Just the smell of this stuff can turn a bad day into a good one.” He casts Rey a playful glance, and she can’t help but smile.

“Ok, so, you definitely want to sip this,” He continues, lifting the cup. “It takes a little while to get used to the flame-y feeling in your throat.” He brings it to his lips, tilting just a little. He swishes the liquid in his mouth for a moment, then gulps.

He immediately tenses like he’s in pain, grimacing as it goes down. 

“ _Ah_ …” He croaks, his face contorted. “That’s the good stuff.”

Rey watches, amused by his bravado.  

“Your turn,” he nods.

She looks at the cup, examining it for a moment.

Then in one swift motion, she lifts it and takes a giant gulp.

The liquid pours into her mouth, an explosion of tarty sweetness. She swishes it right then left, a slight tingle on her tongue, then swallows.

The tart turns to flame the instant it hits her throat, a river of fire making its way to her belly, setting everything ablaze as it goes. She feels flushed, the heat consuming her insides and bursting through her skin. She shakes her head briskly as she sets down the drink, then looks over at Sylas.

He’s staring in wide-eyed wonder.  

“You…” He points at her. “Are adventurous, and I like it.” He grins, a different kind of appreciation in his eyes. “So, what do you think?” He leans in eagerly.

“This stuff…” She taps the cup twice. “Could certainly keep you warm on a cold night. Functional _and_ delicious.”

Sylas nods, like he’s proud she’s caught onto this.

“ _Exactly_.” He picks up his drink to take a sniff. “I would’ve never survived Hoth without firewater.” He takes another sip, tensing as the liquid goes down.

“Is that where you’re from?”

Sylas shakes his head.

“Hell no,” he croaks, recovering from the burn. “I avoid snow planets if I can.” He sets down his drink. “I’m more of a tropical planet kind of guy. Or really any planet where there’s no chance of freezing to death.”  

“So, where’s home for you?”

“Supremacy II,” he answers with a laugh. “Only place that’s ever felt like home, really.”

Rey tilts her head, her expression softening.

“So… you don’t have any family?”

“Not in the traditional sense.” He shrugs. “But you can always _make_ a family. Find your people and stick together, you know.”

“Yes, I know a little something about that,” Rey says quietly, glancing down.

When she looks up, she’s met by soft eyes searching hers.

“So…” Sylas starts slowly. “You’re… an orphan too?” He flinches, uncertain of the answer.

But he relaxes when Rey nods.

Sylas nods back, welling with a distinctive kind of warmth, one that Rey has come to know quite well.

It’s that feeling of connection, unspoken but powerful, a silent bond that forms when you look into another’s eyes and see yourself there, someone who _knows_ you, even if you’ve only just met, because their experiences, their scars are so much like yours…  

“Ertegas.” Sylas points to himself grimly. “Corporate farms. I had overseers, not parents.” He grunts, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Jakku.” Rey slides her forearms onto the bar. “Scavenger. I had junk bosses, not parents.”  

“That’s rough,” Sylas croaks, setting his drink down. “But look at us now,” he declares brightly, gesturing between them. “Lightyears away from our crummy home planets. Shakin’ up the galaxy, doing important things, me with the First Order and you—” He catches himself with an awkward laugh. “Well…” He looks down, shifting in his seat. He drums his fingers on the bar, suddenly at a loss for words.

“So, uh…” He finally speaks. “What do you do…?” He glances up. “For the Resistance?”

Rey eyes him coolly, reading him.

But she only senses an innocent kind of curiosity.

She sits up, sliding her hands onto her lap.

“I run an anti-slavery initiative,” she informs him. “We help people who fight slavery across the galaxy, doing rescues and such.” 

“That’s great!” Sylas commends her. “I’ve known a lot of slaves in my time. Good people. They deserve better. I’m glad brave ones like you are trying to help.”

“Well, someone has to,” Rey responds. “Since the First Order doesn’t seem too keen on doing anything.”  

At this, Sylas jerks back, offended.

“Hey!” He protests. “We do things! Haven’t you heard about Delphon? Apatros? Crucival?”

“Kaller,” Rey adds dryly.

Sylas sighs, dropping his shoulders.

“That wasn’t our fault.” He points at her. “We can’t stop these gangs from blowing up their own mines and everything inside them. But if we _can_ help, we do. Like on Delphon.”

“Ah, yes,” Rey comments with a hint of sarcasm. “ _That’s_ why the First Order was on Delphon. To help the slaves.” She lifts her drink, shooting Sylas a sidelong glance.

He tilts his head in concession.

“Alright, alright,” he admits. “Helping slaves isn’t exactly our priority. But that’s because we have a galaxy to run, and empire to build. I’m sure the Supreme Leader will get around to dealing with the slave issue soon enough.”

“Oh, you think so?” Rey raises an eyebrow.

“ _Absolutely_.” Sylas nods.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because,” Sylas twists his cup on the bar. “I know him. Me and the Supreme Leader are like this.” He lifts a hand, wrapping his middle and index fingers together.

“ _Really?_ ” Rey sounds impressed.

“Oh _yeah_.” Sylas puffs out his chest. “I’m practically his right-hand man. I see him all the time. _Without_ his mask.” He takes a big swig of his drink.

“So, you know his face?” She leans in.

“Oh,” He blows out an exhale, his face flushed. “I know _a lot_ more than that,” he boasts. “We work closely together. I do all kinds of things for him, not just negotiation.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” Sylas looks to the ceiling. “Take how I ran into your friend, for example. The Supreme Leader sent me here to recruit the Daughters of Q’anah for a special weapons delivery we’ve got coming up soon.”

“Weapons?” Rey knits her eyebrows. “For who? And why does the First Order need pirates to make deliveries for them?”

Sylas purses his lips.

“I _would_ tell you about that…” He starts slowly. “But…” He scrunches his face. “Then, I’d have to kill you.”

Rey stares at him blankly.

“Oh, come on!” He sits up in his chair. “That was a joke!”

She cracks a smile, shaking her head.

“Well, the killing you part was,” Sylas concedes. “I really can’t tell you much about why I’m here. But what a _can_ tell you…” He lifts an index finger. “Is that there are a lot of people on planet not too far from here whose lives are about to get _a lot_ better.”

Rey narrows her eyes, doubtful.

“Better _how_?” She probes.

“Can’t tell you that,” Sylas shakes his head. “Let’s just say that there’s a _long_ overdue reckoning on its way and the First Order’s gonna make sure the right side wins.”

“And how can you tell what the _right_ side is?”   

“Easy.” Sylas grabs his drink. “It’s the one that’s been suffering under a bunch of self-absorbed assholes making bad decisions.” He takes a sip. “You see…” He sets the cup down, tensing as he gulps. “You Resistance people…” He scoffs. “You’ve got it all wrong. The Supreme Leader doesn’t want to stomp all over the galaxy like the Empire did. He actually wants to make things better, not just for some people but for _everybody_. When he makes decisions, he thinks about the big picture, what’s best for the majority.”

“And how exactly is a weapon like Starkiller best for the majority?” Rey challenges without skipping a beat.

Sylas looks away, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well…” He lets out a long exhale. “We, uh, need it to…” He fidgets with his cup. “Get things done,” he concludes tepidly. “You can’t run a galaxy without keeping people in line, you know? Just the fact that Starkiller _exists_ will stop things from getting out of control.”

Rey grunts.

“So, you don’t think there’ll ever be another Hosnian?”

Sylas darkens.

“I hope not,” he mumbles into his drink. He sighs heavily, his shoulders hunched. But soon, he perks up, looking over at Rey.

“Don’t worry,” he assures her. “That’ll never happen as long as Kylo Ren’s in charge.”  

“You don’t he’ll use the weapon?”

“ _Never_.” Sylas practically cuts her off. “That’s another thing you Resistance people get wrong. You talk about Kylo Ren as though he’s some monster but really…” He leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret.

“He’s actually a good guy,” he whispers. “And a lot more human than you’d think.” He leans away. “ _A lot_ more.” He reaches for his drink, but just stares at it.

Rey regards him softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” Sylas shifts a little. “That he’s actually _a person_. He feels things, just like you and I do. He has good days and bad days. He gets tired sometimes, worn down. And he wants things too, like…” He sighs, gripping his cup. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “I think he’s lonely sometimes.”

Rey feels a twist in her heart.

She looks down, pressing her lips together.

“What makes you say that?” She asks quietly.

“Just…” Sylas shakes his head, growing uncomfortable. “Observation. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t want me talking about him like this, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“ _Because_.” Sylas snaps up. “He’s the _Supreme Leader of the First_ Order. You _wouldn’t believe_ the kind of people he hast to put up with. I mean, you have heard of General Hux, right?” He snorts. “Kylo Ren has to be stronger, tougher, and smarter than _everybody_. That’s why he wears the mask— to put up a hard front, maintain his authority. But underneath it all…” Sylas shrugs. “He’s different.”

“Different how?” She presses.

“I don’t know.” Sylas twitches. “He just… is. He’s not as cold as he puts on. He actually cares about people.”

“Yeah?” Rey tilts her head. “How so?”

“Well, he cares about me,” Sylas gestures to himself. “And others like me. He’s been making some changes so we can get promoted, use our skills in different places. The lower ranks _love_ him,” he enunciates dramatically. “He does all these little things to make our lives better, like sending some of the good food our way, giving us access to training modules and such.” Sylas grunts. “A lot of upper ranked people don’t like it, but Kylo Ren doesn’t care. He does it anyway because he knows it’s the _right_ thing.” He taps the bar emphatically.

“And he listens to people, too.” Sylas grabs his drink. “He actually hears people out, no matter how small, and if they make a good point, he considers it.” He sits back in his chair, taking a sip, tensing as the liquid goes down. “He’s open to ideas, as long as they’re reasonable. He’d give anybody a fair shot. I bet he’d even listen to you, hear you out about your concerns on slavery.”

“Do you really think so?” Rey instantly leans in.

“ _Absolutely!_ ” Sylas sits up. “He’s in the system. I bet he’d meet with you if I asked. How long are you gonna be here?”

Rey clicks her tongue.

“I leave today, unfortunately.” She scrunches her face. “After this, in fact. Daja and I have a lot of systems to cover.”

“Oh.” Sylas sinks with disappointment. “That’s too bad. I was…” He looks down. “Hoping to get to know you better.” He glances up shyly.

Rey can’t help but smile.

“I’ve liked getting to know you too, Sylas,” she says genuinely. “But don’t be sad. Something tells me we’ll cross paths again.”

“Oh yeah?” He sits up, hopeful.  

Rey nods, reaching for her drink.

“I tend to be right about these kinds of things.” She winks at him. Then she throws her head back, finishing the firewater in one big gulp. She tenses as it burns its way into her belly. She shakes head briskly, blowing out an exhale like flames.

“This was fun, Sylas.” She sets her empty cup on the bar. “Thank you for the drink. And for the conversation.” She glances at him, a twinkle in her eye. Then she slides from the chair, reaching into her pouch to check the time. 

“Gotta go, huh?”

“I’m afraid so.” She slips the chrono back in the pouch. “But before I do.” She looks up. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Of course!” Sylas instantly hops from the chair. “Just name it, and I can do it. I’m kinda known for being able to do anything.”

Rey chuckles.

“You seem like the capable type.” She turns, smiling. “And though this is a long shot I thought that _just_ _maybe_ …” She draws out the word. “Given your connections with the Supreme Leader, you _might_ be able to arrange that meeting for me?” 

Sylas jerks back, confused.

“You mean… Right now?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Uh…” He looks up. “I mean… it’s no trouble _to ask_ but...” He tsks. “The Supreme Leader’s _really_ busy. All his days are all scheduled in advance. You gotta get on early if you want to meet with him.”

“I figured as much.” Rey sighs. “But if it’s no trouble to ask, would you…?” She squints. “Mind terribly…?”

“Not at all.” He lifts a hand like this is nothing. “I can pretty much _guarantee_ that he won’t be available but…” He reaches for a comm attached to his belt. “Never hurts to try.” He unclicks the device and brings it up to his lips, pressing a button.

“This is 928-C with a code 11 for the Supreme.” He deepens his voice, adopting a tone of command. He glances at Rey, wiggling the comm.

“This is one of the new ones.” He points to it. “Listen for how clear it is, almost like—”

“This is 1240-F with the Supreme. What’s your code 11?”

Sylas nods with a goofy grin as the response comes in.

He puts a hand on his hip, turning from Rey as he lifts the device.

“Yeah, I got a level five request for the Supreme Leader. Location: Belsavis. Purpose: C-9 Conference. Parties—” Suddenly, he stops, jerking back.

“Hey,” he whispers to Rey, bringing the comm down. “Who should I say you are?”

“Say…” She pauses a moment. “Say I’m a Resistance leader who’d like to discuss his position on slavery. ”

Sylas nods, turning away.

“Parties: A Resistance leader who’d like to discuss concerns about slavery. Time: Present, if available.”  He lowers the comm, waiting.

“Request submitted.” A response comes through a few seconds later.

Sylas gives a firm nod, reattaching the comm to his belt.

“Alright.” He turns to Rey with accomplished exhale. “Request submitted. Now, we just have to wait.” He steps briskly towards the bar but almost immediately slows.

“Though…” He furrows his eyebrows. “With that request level, we might not hear back for a while.” He looks up at Rey. “How long can you wait?”

She tilts her head.

“I can stay for… fifteen minutes?” She raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ll get a response by then?”  

Sylas looks to the floor.

“Not likely…” He presses his lips together. “How about this.” He snaps up. “We wait for fifteen minutes, and you tell me about your concerns so I can pass them on as best I can.”

“Sure.” Rey nods. “That sounds reasonable.”

“ _Excellent_.” Sylas swells with satisfaction. “This works out great because now I get to talk to you more. Come on.” He steps towards the bar with a hop. “Have another drink with me. Do you want something different this time? Maybe something you want me to try?”  

Rey looks up, pursing her lips.

“You know…” She starts slowly, scanning the bottles lining the back of the bar. “I don’t drink too often so I’m not sure I could recommend anything interesting.”

“ _Really?_ ” Sylas asks in disbelief. “You don’t drink much? Because you put that firewater down like a pro.”

Rey lets out a laugh.

“Just because I don’t drink _often_ doesn’t mean I don’t drink _well_.” She steps forward. “I don’t mind having a little fun, when the occasion arises.”

“Well, in that case, I’m honored to be an occasion for fun.” He flashes a grin.

She smiles, shaking her head, as she slides onto the chair next to him.

“Alright.” She leans over the bar. “What do you recommend? Maybe something that burns _just a tad_ less on the way down?” She glances at him teasingly.

“But you did so well!” He protests. “In fact, I think that maybe, _just maybe_ , you might even be able to handle what is _without question_ the most insane thing I’ve ever consumed. _Ever_.” He leans in for emphasis.

“I don’t know about that…” She tilts her head. “I think I’ll need a little more information first.”

“No problem.” He leans back. “Tell you what. We’ll just order one to start, and if you like it—”

“The Supreme with a reply for 928-C.”

Sylas jerks back, startled by the interruption.

“Aww.” He drops his shoulders. “Well, that was fast.” His face falls. “ _Of course_ it would be the one time I wouldn’t mind it taking longer.” He reaches for his comm and brings it to his lips.

“This is 928-C. What’s your reply?”

He lowers the device, glancing a Rey with a half-smile, trying not to look disappointed.

“Your request is approved. The Supreme Leader will arrive in ten minutes. Stand by for details.”

His jaw drops. He gapes at his comm in wide-eyed shock.

“I-I-” He sputters.

“What luck!” Rey declares brightly, hopping down from her chair.

“He-He’s coming down _here_?” Sylas sits frozen. “But… he never does that.” He stares at his comm, stunned.

“Ok, ok…” He reattaches his device with a trembling hand, his breath shallow, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Rey knits her eyebrows.

“Sylas, are you—?”

Suddenly, he shoots out of his chair.

“Come on!” He gestures urgently. “We gotta go! _Right now!_ ”

He charges towards the cantina entrance but doesn’t get two steps before the bartender erupts in protest, demanding he pay for his drinks.

“Oh shit!”

Sylas whips around, shoving a hand in his pocket as he scurries back to the bar. He drops a handful of credits in front of the droid, heavy coins scattering everywhere.

“Keep the change.”

He lunges towards Rey, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.

“Whoa, Sylas…” She barely keeps from crashing into people as he tugs her along. “Where are you going?”

But Sylas doesn’t answer, continuing to push towards the entrance without looking back. He shoves past patrons right and left, yelling as he goes.

“Excuse me! In a rush here!”

He bursts through the open door, startling a large Bothan couple who were about to enter. He pulls Rey to the side, halting to look up and around.

They’re on the street now, a wide thoroughfare with merchants scrunched in rows on either side, makeshift shops with all manner of goods on display. It’s packed with people bumbling about, chattering, yelling, moving along hoverlifts stacked high with new purchases.

But Sylas isn’t looking at the street. He’s scanning the tops of the buildings, urgently trying to work out a problem in his head.

“Sylas, I don’t understand.” Rey watches, concerned. “What’s the rush? Didn’t the operator say stand by for details?”

“Yeah…” Sylas answers absently, still searching. “They’re gonna secure a landing spot, somewhere close by.” He turns, searching the other way now.

“But…” Rey knits her eyebrows. “How do they know where you are?”

“Tracker.” Sylas pats his collarbone, still scanning. He turns around again, squinting up to the sky. “Probably… there.” He points to a sleek silver building that towers above the rest. “Come on.”

He grabs Rey’s hand, jerking her in that direction.

They weave briskly through the crowd, pushing past throngs of shoppers ambling by.

“This is the Supreme with a message for 928-C.”

Sylas grabs his comm.

“This is 928-C. What’s your message?”

He tugs Rey’s hand, pulling her along more quickly.

“Your rendezvous is Vlazen Tower, approximately half a kilometer to your right. You’ll recognize it as the tallest building in your area. Someone will meet you at the entrance. Provide the code 4601B.”

“Confirmed,” Sylas answers before reattaching the comm. “4601B, 4601B,” he repeats, lunging to dodge hoverlift careening off course.

Rey stumbles, trailing behind him.

“Sylas,” she calls as she regains her balance. “I think we’ll move more quickly if I could have my hand back.”

“Oh, right.” He releases her. “Sorry.” He looks back sheepishly.

“No problem.” She smiles as she shoots past him. “Bet you can’t beat me there,” she teases, breaking into a run.

“Whoa, Rey!” He bursts after her.

But she doesn’t look back, racing through the crowd, startling a merchant as she hops onto his hoverlift, flipping off it to land gingerly a few feet away.

She flies towards the silver tower, heartbeat racing, pumping with both adrenaline and anticipation. She can’t stop from smiling as she sprints, dodging or leaping over obstacles, the staircase to the building quickly coming into view.

She runs up the steps, halting at the entrance, a thick blast door at the top. She whips around, flushed, searching the crowd for Sylas.

He’s pushing through a throng of Mirialan women, red-faced and breathless, apologizing as he goes. The women eye him disapprovingly as he bursts past them, running up the stairs to meet Rey.

“You’re—” He stops just in front of her. “Fast.” He tries to catch his breath.  “And _spry_.” He widens his eyes. 

“I’ve been told.” She squints with a glimmer.

Sylas opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the sound of a door whirring open.

Rey turns to find a tall, gray-bearded man in long white robes emerge onto the steps. He lowers his hood, eying Rey and Sylas guardedly.

“Um…” Sylas steps forward. “I’m with First Order. Code 4601B?” He offers tentatively.

The elderly man nods once, his face tinted with mild suspicion.

“Come,” he commands coldly. He turns and glides into the building, his white robes billowing behind him.

Rey and Sylas look at one another.

Then they both move at once.

The door whirs shut behind them as they follow the man through an opulent lounge, filled with white or silver furniture, everything so crisp it looks like it’s brand new. It’s nearly empty, only a couple of well-dressed Kaminoans chatting softly next to a row of consoles at the back of the room.

The white-robed man leads them into a small lobby with four elevators, two on each side. He walks up to one and presses a panel next to it.

The door slides smoothly open.

“This way.” He walks into the elevator without looking back.

Rey and Sylas follow hesitantly, feeling out of place in the luxurious surroundings.

The door slides shut and the elevator starts into motion, a low hum in the background as it glides upwards.

Their guide stares straight ahead, hands clasped in front of him, never once uttering a word or even looking over at them. He feels irritated, like he’s annoyed with this interruption to his day.

Rey directs her attention to Sylas.

He’s adrenaline-charged and a little nervous. He keeps fidgeting, reaching to touch his comm every so often, like he’s making sure it’s still there.

Soon, the elevator begins to slow then stops altogether. The door slides open and the white-robed man steps forward.

Rey and Sylas follow close behind.

They’re in a narrow hall now with white walls, a silver trim along the top and bottom. Their boots click against the smooth surface of the floor, so shiny it’s almost reflective.

Their guide leads them to a thick blast door at the end of the hall. He stops just in front of it to enter a code on the keypad. The door instantly whirs open, revealing a large, circular landing deck surrounded by clear skies.

They step onto the deck, a cool breeze in the air, the city stretching out infinitely on all sides. The white-robed man walks a few paces away, then stops, clasping his hands in front of him. He looks down appearing calm but squirming inwardly with annoyance.

Rey and Sylas stand beside him, both trying not to look his way.

Instead, they turn to each other.

Sylas smiles.

He’s still nervous but a different kind of nervous now, more like excitement.

“Well this is…” He exhales with a laugh. “Unexpected. But _great_.” His smile spreads to a grin. “I’m so glad you’re getting to meet him. Now, be sure you tell all your friends about this.” He points at her. “Tell them the Supreme Leader isn’t at all like they—”

“ _Kylo Ren_ is coming?” The white-robed man suddenly snaps towards them, eyes wide. “ _Here?_ ” He points down, gripped with panic.

Sylas nods.

“I-I-” He sputters, the color draining from his face. “I’ll be right back.” He charges towards the door but halts abruptly, whipping around. “Is there anything I can get for you?” He asks, suddenly eager to please.

Sylas looks at Rey.

She shakes her head.

“No, thanks,” he informs their guide.

The man nods nervously, then turns and exits into the hall.

Sylas looks back to Rey with a glimmer.

“The Supreme Leader has that effect on people.” He smirks. “It happens a lot. I’ll be meeting with someone and they’ll be all irritated or disinterested, sometimes downright mean. Then they’ll find out I’m there and behalf of the Supreme Leader and all of a sudden—” He lifts both hands. “They’re falling _all over themselves_ to cooperate, answer my questions, get me whatever I want.” He laughs. “It’s kinda nice.”

“I’ll bet.” Rey smiles.

“Yeah.” Sylas nods. “It happens for a reason, though. I mean…” He tilts his head. “He can be intimidating. I’m sure you’ve heard stories. Just try not to be put off by it. Remember what I said. He might seem cold, but if you’re _really_ confident and make good points…”

Sylas continues chattering, but Rey’s only half listening now, her eyes snapping to the sky.

She feels it… Subtle, but unmistakable. A warmth welling from within. So much like the bond...

A smile creeps across her lips.

“There it is!”

Sylas points to a black dot emerging from the clouds.

Both of them watch as the command shuttle gradually comes into focus, engines whining, black wings jutting out on either side, like giant bat.

It slows as it gets close, the wings beginning to fold inward, moving to straight lines shooting into the sky.

The ship hovers above the deck, engines roaring, before it descends to land smoothly on the surface.

Rey and Sylas share an excited glance.

The ship towers above them, the roar of the engines dying away.

For a few seconds, nothing happens.

Then, there’s a low clang followed by a hiss. White mist billows forward as the ramp lowers to the deck.

Rey’s heart quickens.

“Let’s go!”

She instantly barrels up the ramp.

“No! Rey, wait!”

Sylas races after her.

She waves an arm, clearing the white mist, as she arrives at the top of the ramp, startling two Stormtroopers. They immediately set their rifles on her.

Rey halts, lifting both hands.

“Don’t shoot!” Sylas yells breathlessly, scuttling up beside her. “Don’t shoot! She’s ok.”

The Stormtroopers lower their weapons slowly. They turn their heads to one another.

Then, they shift forward, moving to assume a post on either side of the entrance.

“Thanks.” Sylas waves awkwardly.

He snaps to Rey.

“ _Are you crazy!?_ ” He practically squeaks. “You can’t just run into the Supreme Leader’s command shuttle! You’re lucky you didn’t get _killed_!”  

“Sorry.” Rey bites her lip. “I’m just excited.”

Sylas blows out an exhale.

“It’s ok,” He says more calmly. “Just… follow me from now on, alright?”

“Yes, of course.” Rey nods. “Lead the way.” She gestures in front of her.

Sylas starts down a narrow hall and she follows, _bursting_ with impatience, the full force of his presence mere _moments_ away.

They make their way through the dimly lit ship, which, by all appearances, is nearly empty, not a soul in sight.

Sylas looks around as he walks.

“Where is everybody?” He mutters to himself.

“Are there usually more people here?”

“Yeah.” He peers into a side room. “And there should be an officer, someone to give permission to enter the room.”

“You need permission?” Rey tilts her head.

Sylas scoffs, like the question is ridiculous.

“ _Always_.”

He slows, lifting a hand.

“Wait there.”

Rey halts.

Sylas continues a few feet down the hall before stopping and turning to face the right.

At first, he just stares, like he’s not sure what to do. Finally, he leans in, lifting a hand to a built-in comm.

“This is Sylas Bonden with a C-9 conference…?” 

He waits a moment.

Then he steps back, fidgeting.

Suddenly, a door whirs open and Sylas nearly jumps out of his skin.

In the next instant, he straightens, stiff as a board, pressing his arms into his sides.

“Sir.” He stands, rigged and alert. “Permission to enter.”

“Granted.”

Rey’s lips curl upward at the sound of Ben’s voice.

Sylas glances as her, jerking his head sharply, before disappearing into the room.

Rey steps forward, her smile deepening.

She follows him into what appears to be a small conference center, consoles lining the back and side walls, a circular table in the middle. She spots a mask and gloves on top of it.

Ben’s standing at the back of the room, facing the consoles, hands clasped behind him. He turns almost as soon as she walks in.

He does his best to maintain an even expression.

But she already detects a hint of a smile.

“Thank you for approving this request, sir.” Sylas stops a few feet in front of him, stiff and rigid. “I know you’re busy.”

Ben gives a slight nod, making a point to focus on Sylas and not Rey.

“But I think you’re gonna find this worth your time.” Sylas relaxes a bit. “I want you to meet someone who’s doing _really_ good work in the galaxy.”   

Sylas steps to the side, gesturing broadly at Rey behind him.

Ben looks at her now, and as soon as he does, his effort to appear neutral fails _miserably_.  

“This is Rey of the Resistance. She runs an anti-slavery initiative and has some questions about…” Sylas’s voice trails off when he looks back at Ben.

His smile is unmistakable now, the kind that’s all the more noticeable because it defies any attempt to squelch it.

Sylas turns back to Rey, knitting his eyebrows.

But she’s looking at Ben, that same smile on her lips. They can’t take their eyes off one another, can’t keep their emotions from manifesting on their faces.

Sylas is _deeply_ confused now.

He keeps looking from one to the other, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you…” He squints, tilting his head. “ _Know_ each other…?” He studies Rey, utterly baffled.

Then all at once, the realization hits him.  

“ _Oh my God!_ ”

He gasps, clapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

Rey jerks to Sylas, not understanding this reaction.

“You can go now, Sylas.”

Ben steps towards him, grabbing his arm and ushering him to the door.

He stumbles along in dazed shock, broken only by the briefest glance at Rey, eyes struck with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“We’ll need to have a discussion later.”

Ben puts a hand on his back, pushing him into the hall.

“Yes, sir. _Of course_ ,” Sylas says breathlessly. He whips around, his face white with panic.

“But, sir, before I go…” He leans in, lowering his voice. “I just want you to know…” He gulps. “That my interest in her was _completely_ professional.”

“Sylas, _get_ —”

“Getting out.” He scuttles down the hall. 

Ben shakes his head, pressing a panel by the door. It whirs shut as he turns to face Rey.

“What was that about?” She raises an eyebrow.

Ben purses his lips.

“There may be one or two rumors floating around the First Order.” He steps forward.

“Oh really?” She unstraps her pouch, tossing it on a counter in front of the console. “What kind of rumors?”

“Nothing too interesting.” He stops just in front of her. “Only that I have a secret lover, some mysterious woman.”

She lets out a mock gasp.

“How scandalous!” She squints teasingly. “Even more so if it turned out to be true.”

He grunts, dark eyes fixed on hers.

“So…” He lifts a hand to her face, brushing aside a strand of hair. “I hear you have some concerns.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She juts her chin up, trying to adopt a serious tone.

But she just can’t stop smiling…

“Mm hmm.” He traces the curve of her jaw. “ _That’s_ why you called me down here.” There’s a glint in his eye. “To discuss your concerns.” He slips a hand behind her waist.

“Yes.” Her heart quickens as he descends. “And to say hello.”

She barely finishes the sentence before their lips connect softly.

He pulls back, his face still close.

“Hello.” He smiles.

“Hello.” She curls a hand behind his neck, pulling him down to meet her.

They kiss again, then again, building heat as they go, until their kisses start to blend, becoming a continuous stream of panting and hot, wet flesh connecting— their lips, their tongues, their mouths opening into one another.  

They seem to consume each other, to take the other in, him pressing her body against his, her gripping dark locks of his hair, rising to her toes to pull him closer.

Suddenly, he grabs her waist, lifting her onto the counter.

They’re eye-to-eye now, breathing heavily, faces just an inch apart, his hands on her hips, her fingers tangled in his hair.

He tilts his head, his lips grazing hers, gripping her flesh. She opens her mouth, pulling his into hers, wrapping her legs around him as they resume a passionate stream of kisses, losing themselves in the warmth, the desire, this feeling of being wanted _so badly_.  

Rey loves this.

She finds herself thinking about it more and more, especially in quiet moments, like when she’s trying to sleep.

It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced, this physical intimacy, the way she just _melts_ into him, the way they melt into each other. It’s something beyond what language can express, or at least any language she knows. It’s tactile, visceral— his scent, his body heat, the weight of him, how he holds her like he never wants to let go.

All she knows is that she craves it like she’s been wanting it all her life.

This is why she’s here. This is why she sought him out.

And this is why he came.

Perhaps it was unwise. Perhaps it was unfair to poor Sylas. Perhaps it’s even dangerous, given what both of them have to lose.

But what’s happening now is beyond the purview of reason.

They want to be near each other. They want to be close. They want to connect.

It’s an instinct they can’t ignore. Even with all the forces pulling them apart—grand ambitions, conflicting ideals, the war brewing between the First Order and Resistance, the threat of exposure, the consequences if people were to find out— none of them are stronger than the desire to come together.   

And even as the tactile sensations consume her— the heat of his body against hers, the softness of his lips, the way her skin tingles when his hand travels down her back, slipping under her shirt to grip warm flesh— Rey senses that the physical expression of desire is just a shadow, a manifestation of something deeper, something neither of them quite understand.

Suddenly, she pulls back, unlocking her lips from his.

They’re both panting, still close, his hands at her hips, her fingers curled around the nape of his neck. His dark eyes search hers, trying to read her.

But they soon soften, the fire dying down to a warm glow when the realization sets in.

She didn’t pull away because she’s ashamed or afraid or uncertain.

She just wants to look into his eyes, take a moment to acknowledge what lies beneath the passion, lust made all the more intense by love, how much they care about each other, the bond between them.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, their bodies still close, their arms wrapped around one another. They’re both smiling, small, knowing smiles of tacit understanding.

Rey lifts a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. Then she leans in, her lips connecting softly with his.         

She kisses him tenderly, a sweet, lingering kiss, before pulling away to look him in the eyes again.

She loves this as much as anything else, the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters, deep, black wells full of everything that draws her to him— his passion, his fire, all the longing and loneliness she feels reflected back at her.

Without thinking, she leans forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, overcome by a sudden need to just be enveloped by him.

He responds in kind, tugging at her hips to press her body against his, encircling her in a tight hold.

She lets out a long sigh, closing her eyes as she relaxes into him, everything falling away until there’s only his scent, his heat, the sound of his heart beating. She surrenders to the peace, the perfect sense of contentment and so does he, their emotions so similar it’s impossible to distinguish between them.

“I miss you,” she murmurs. “I’m always missing you.”

“I know.” He tightens his hold, so much he trembles a little, crushing her body into his. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, her face buried in his shoulder, so lost in him she seems to forget herself— where she is, why she’s here… 

Suddenly, they both snap up, twisting to the door at the sound of footsteps walking by.  

The footsteps recede quickly, disappearing to the front of the ship.

“The pilot.” Ben turns back.

She nods, her forearms resting on his shoulders.

They gaze at one another for a moment, quickly forgetting the interruption.

Ben leans in, his lips connecting with hers, his hand sliding up her back. 

“You know…” Rey manages to speak between kisses. “This isn’t the only reason I asked to meet with you.”

“Uh huh.” His lips travel down her jaw. “I’m sure,” he whispers in her ear.

She rolls her eyes but can’t help smiling.

“I’m serious, Ben.” She slides a palm to his chest. “There really is something I want to talk to you about.” She pushes slightly.

At first, he resists, tightening his hold as his lips travel down her neck.

But she pushes again, a little harder, and he pulls away, his face only an inch from hers.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes but it soon disappears as he looks into hers.

His face falls.

He senses her emotions, determination mixed with hesitance, that feeling she gets whenever she wants to discuss something potentially…

Unpleasant.

He straightens, his hands sliding to her thighs. He glances to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. When he looks down, he seems a little colder.  

“So…” He purses his lips. “What did you want to talk about?”

Rey sighs, reluctant in spite herself.

She takes a moment to study him, to enjoy his touch, the warmth of his body close to hers. She lifts a hand to brush a lock of his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

His eyes soften.

“I…” She caresses his cheek with a thumb. She lets out an exhale, dropping her hand. “I heard about Kaller.”

He instantly jerks back, sucking in a breath.  He turns, stalking a few steps away, his shoulders tense and rigid.

He halts in front of the side console, clasping his hands behind him.

“What about it?” He demands curtly.

Rey shifts on the counter, bringing her hands to her lap.

“I heard…” She looks down. “I heard there were nearly two thousand slaves trapped in the mines when the Janus Brothers blew them to pieces.”   

He sighs heavily, covering his eyes with a palm.

Rey shakes her head.

“That’s a lot of people, Ben…”

“I _know_ that,” he growls, whipping to face her. “ _Trust_ me. For the past _week_ , I’ve heard about _nothing_ but Kaller—  the destruction, the mess, the resources lost, the lives lost. I am _well aware_.”

He whips back to the consoles.

Rey sighs, staring at her hands

“I know…” she starts gently, “that things must be hard for you after Apatros.”

He scoffs.

“You have _no idea_.”

She presses her lips together.

“But…” She looks up. “You have a responsibility to try to keep these people safe—”

“I _am trying_!” He roars, whipping around. “You don’t think I have recon teams _exhaustively_ searching for a way into the mines before we invade them?”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“Your recon teams are terrible,” she grumbles under her breath.

“ _What?_ ” He steps forward, squinting.

“Nothing.” She looks away.

“Rey.” His tone is cold now. “Trust me when I tell you I am doing _everything_ I can to stop these gangs from blowing up themselves and their resources with them, slaves included.”

“Are you sure about that _?_ ” She looks at him.

“What do you mean?” He twitches.

She purses her lips.

“ _I mean_ ,” she starts slowly. “Maybe you’re not considering all of your options. For example…” She glances to the ceiling. “Do you happen to know anyone who, say,” she shrugs, “leads a group of people experienced in infiltrating and sneaking slaves out of enclosed and heavily guarded areas?”

She raises an eyebrow.

He immediately grunts, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on, Ben!” She hops from the counter. “It could be _just like_ Apatros.” She shoots forward, halting in front of him. “We could get there a few days in advance, scout an escape route, then when the First Order shows up, you’ll draw all the guards to the surface, and we’ll sneak everyone out.”

“Rey, no.” He’s still shaking his head.

“Why not!?” She protests. “All you have to do is let me know where you’ll be. Just give me a little warning, a couple of weeks if you can, and I’ll put together a team. We’re good at working on the fly. We do it _a lot_.”

“And what makes you think you’ll have an easier time finding a way _out of the mines_ than my recon teams have getting _into them_?” He leans in.

Rey clicks her tongue.

“Ben…” She looks down. “I’m sorry to tell you this but… I’m not sure your recon teams could sneak their way into a second-rate prison.”

She looks up to find him balking at her.

“Sorry.” She scrunches her face. “But it’s true. You said it yourself. They searched for a way into the mines on Apatros for _weeks_ , while I found one out of them in three days.”

He sets his jaw, turning away.

“They just…” She shrugs. “Don’t know much about these kinds of operations, how they work. But _I do_.” He looks back at her. “I work with people who’ve been sneaking slaves out of mines like Kaller for _years_. And with everyone I’ve been recruiting, there’s a good chance I can find someone who’s actually _lived_ in the mines you’re invading.”

“ _That_.” He points a finger at her. “Is _exactly_ the reason I don’t want you anywhere _close_ to these invasions right now.”

“Why?” She knits her eyebrows. “Because I can find people better than your recon teams?” 

“ _No_ ,” he snaps back. “The _recruitment_.” He cocks his head caustically.

Rey bites her lip, looking away.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” He steps forward. “You think I don’t know what your little anti-slavery project is _really_ about?”

She looks up to be met by a piercing gaze.

“You think I’m not keeping a close eye on the Resistance?” He leans in. “Because I would’ve hoped you’re not that naïve.”

She hardens, eyes fixed on his.

“Recruitment isn’t _why_ I run the initiative, Ben,” she retorts. “It’s just…” She juts her chin up. “A fringe benefit.”

“I’m sure it is.” He smirks. “Regardless, I think you can understand why I don’t want Resistance recruiters crawling around these systems.”

Rey tilts her head in concession.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “What if I were to promise we won’t do _any_ recruiting for these particular rescues?”

He narrows his eyes, considering this.

After a few seconds, he shakes his head.

“What?” Rey gapes at him. “You don’t _trust me!?_ ”

“It’s not that.” He turns away from her. “I trust _you_.” He steps to the back of the room. “It’s your team I don’t trust.”

“But _I_ control my team.” She shoots towards him. “They follow _my lead_.” She reaches for his shoulder, turning him to face her. “They have faith in _me_ , in _my_ leadership.”

He looks down at her, dark eyes guarded.

But she senses a chink in his resolve.

“Ben.” She lifts a hand to his face.

He softens at her touch.

“You _know_ me.” She caresses his cheek with a thumb. “You _know_ what I care about. My priority is and _always will be_ saving lives. And my team is exactly like me. Let us _help you_ ,” she goads gently. “Let us help these people, give them a chance at freedom, a chance at _life_.”

She gazes up at him, her hand still on his cheek, and as she does, she senses his armor fall off piece by piece, leaving behind nothing but him, his emotions flickering across his eyes— a blend doubt, compassion, and admiration.

He lifts a hand to her face, grazing the soft skin with the backs of his fingers. He has the faintest smile, almost sad, when he withdraws, turning away.

He steps towards the front of the room, crossing his arms. He’s deep in thought now, the calculating kind, like he’s running through different scenarios, testing for weak spots.

Rey watches quietly.

“Would it help…” She breaks the silence. “If I told you we’ll disarm the bombs if we can?”

He instantly snaps towards her.

“You have people who can do that?”

“I have people for everything.” She shrugs. “I can easily add an explosives expert to the team. That doesn’t mean we’ll be able to stop all the bombs, but…” She tilts her head. “We’ll stop some of them. Truth is, that’s the best way to ensure everyone’s safety in case we can’t get them out in time.”

He rubs his jaw, struck by this prospect.

“And how…,” he starts slowly. “Will you prepare your team for this? Will you tell them you’re expecting the First Order to invade?”

Rey glances to the ceiling.

“I’d have to,” she answers finally.

“And how will you tell them that you came by this information?” He narrows his eyes.

“I’ll tell them…” She puffs out her cheeks. “That I have someone on the inside. A First Order higher up feeding me intel.”

“And how would someone like _you_ have cause to become friendly with such a person?” He challenges.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She crosses her arms. “I did just meet one today.”

Ben grunts.

“Sylas wouldn’t betray me,” he says matter-of-factly. “And he’s _much_ too smart to join the Resistance.”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“That’s not the point, Ben.” She uncrosses her arms. “The point is it’s not outside the realm of possibility that I could meet someone like that.”

He sighs, but doesn’t contest this. Instead, he just stares at her, his jaw twitching.

Finally, he steps forward.

“If we’re going to do this…” He keeps his eyes fixed on hers. “I need you to promise me something.”

“I know, I know.” She waves a hand. “No recruiting.”

“Not just that.” He turns his head sharply. “I need you to _promise_ me that you _and_ your team won’t utter _a word_ about your connection to the Resistance to anyone on these planets, slaves or otherwise.”

“ _Done._ ” Rey juts her chin up. “I’ll just tell them we have to keep off the First Order’s radar. Which is…” She tilts her head, “True. We’ll be like ghosts— slipping in and out, completely in the shadows.”  

Ben raises an eyebrow.

Then he turns, pacing the room again as he clasps his hands behind him. He stops in front of the back console.

Rey watches as he stands silently, reading him, sensing his uncertainty, but also something else, almost like excitement.

Perhaps it’s because he realizes this could be the solution to his problem with the Outer Rim gangs.

Or perhaps he’s thinking about something else entirely, something Rey’s most certainly considered herself.

This would give them an opportunity to see each other outside of the bond.

He takes a measured breath.

Then he turns slowly.

His expression is neutral but that doesn’t fool Rey.

Her lips tease upward.  

“We’ll be on Kaddak in twelve days.” He steps towards her. “We’re going after the Ranc gang, starting with the Varium mines.”

Rey swells with satisfaction.

“I’ll be there.” She steps to meet him, beaming. “Thanks for the heads up.” She halts in front of him. “You’ll be glad you did this.”

“We’ll see.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes. 

“Yes, you will.”

He doesn’t respond to this.

Instead, he just stares at her. He takes a minute to study her features, seeming to take pleasure in memorizing them.

She feels her cheeks grow warm.

“So…” She steps in closer. “I’ll see you on Kaddak, then?” She looks up expectantly.

“Of course.” He lifts a hand her cheek. “I’ll need a report.”

She scoffs lightly.

“You do realize this _does not_ mean I work for you.”

“No.” He brushes back a strand of hair. “But I’m the Supreme Leader.” He slips a hand behind her waist. “I need to hear from everyone involved in these invasions.” He leans in. “Including independent contractors.” His lips connect with hers.

“Is that right?” She kisses him softly.

“Afraid so.”

“I suppose I could find some time,” she murmurs between kisses. “If it really is important.”

“Oh, it is.” He grips her hip. “ _Very_ important.” He presses her body into his.

Suddenly, she pulls back.

“Ben…” She knits her eyebrows. “How will I…?”

His eyes flicker, understanding the question before she finishes.

He straightens, nodding. He slides his hands from her hips, stepping around her towards the door. He stops just next to it, flipping open a keypad to enter a code.

A second later, a squared compartment pops out of the wall.

He pulls it out a little, reaching inside for a moment, then withdrawing with something small in hand. He pushes the compartment back into place.

“Here.” He turns, extending a palm, a small, circular device in the center. “Use this to call for me when you’re ready.”

She steps forward to take the device.

“It’s a beacon?” She brings it close, examining it.

“To the command shuttle.” He nods. “It’ll send a signal with your location.”

She narrows her eyes.

“So, it’s a tracker?”

“ _Only_ when it’s activated,” he assures her.

She studies him, suspicious.

He sighs, dropping his shoulders.

“Fine.” He twitches. “Come on, then.” He gestures to himself. “Come into mind. See I’m telling the truth.” He crosses his arms, looking to the ceiling, annoyed but resigned to the necessity of this.  

Rey watches him quietly.

Then she shakes her head.

“No.”

His eyes snap to hers.

“I don’t need to do that.” She glances at the device. “I trust you.” She looks up at him.

His face is even but she senses his emotions, surprise mixed with tenderness and something she can’t quite read.

She reaches out with her feelings, trying to get a better sense of his.

But they soon shift, all the little nuances fading away as something more powerful overcomes them, that crushing weight she’s come to know so well.

Her heart surges in response, heavy with his emotions as well as her own.

She steps towards him.

But suddenly, she jerks back, startled by the crackle of a comm.

She whips around to her pouch lying on a counter in front of the console. She walks over to it, opening it to find her comm and mute the receiver.

She sighs, shoving the device back in to the pouch along with the beacon.

“Have to go?”

Her shoulders drop.

“Someone’s waiting for me. Worried, probably.” She turns to face him. “And I’m sure I’m not the only one who needs to get back to work.”

He pushes out an exhale.

“No, you’re not.” His tone is clipped.

“Then…” She steps forward. “I suppose this is goodbye.” She stops just in front of him, “For now.”

“For now.” He lifts a hand to her face.

Her heart quickens at his touch.

“I’ll see you in twelve days. Or maybe…” She tilts her head. “Before?”

He grunts at this reference to the bond.

She smiles, sliding a palm up his chest. He descends as she curls a hand behind his neck, pulling him down to meet her.

They’re both smiling when their lips connect softly.

She pulls back, her face still close.

For a minute, they just gaze at one another, enjoying the closeness, their emotions blending together as though they were one person instead of two.

“Do me a favor, would you?” She strokes back a lock of his hair.

“Anything.” His breath tickles her skin.

“Take care of Sylas.” She caresses his cheek. “He’s a good person. He deserves better than he’s got.”

“Don’t worry.” He nods. “I already do that. He’s a valuable asset.”

She grunts, leaning away.

“Yes.” Her tone drips with sarcasm. “I’m sure he’s very _useful_ to you.”

Ben straightens, looking down at her.

“He’s a good kid,” he says finally. “And…” He twitches his jaw. “I like him.”

Rey gasps.

“You mean…” She raises a mocking eyebrow. “You actually _like_ someone you work with?”

He rolls his eyes, turning away from her, but she catches the hint of a smile.

Rey shakes her head, walking to the counter to retrieve her pouch. She begins wrapping the strap around her.

“Make sure he knows.” She turns to Ben as she fixes the pouch in place.

“Knows what?” He shifts towards her.

She looks up once she’s tied the strap.

“That he’s more than just an asset,” she finishes quietly.

He stares at her for a moment.

Then, he gives a slight nod.

He appears cold, but she senses what lies beneath, a tender sense of responsibly, like a parent might feel for a child.

Her heart grows heavy.

Rey gulps, her gaze locked on his.

Then she turns abruptly, slapping the panel by the door and striding into the hall the instant it whirs open, resisting the urge to look back.

She takes a deep breath, moving briskly down the hall, stuck by a strange sense of urgency, like if she doesn’t get off this ship _right now_ , she never will.

Suddenly she halts, startled by Sylas darting out of a room just in front of her.

“Hey!” He runs up quickly, practically ramming into her. He looks flushed and feels nervous.

“Is he…” He gulps, pointing behind her. “Mad at me?” He whispers. 

“ _Oh no_.” She shakes her head. “Not _at all_. In fact…” She lowers her voice a little. “I think you might be the only person in the entire First Order he actually _likes_.”

Sylas drops his shoulders, letting out a great exhale, as though he’s been holding it in this whole time.

Rey feels a twist in her heart.

“I’m sorry.” She bites her lip.

“For what?” He knits his eyebrows.

“For…” She squints a little. “Not being honest with you.”

“Oh.” He looks down, shuffling his feet. “It’s ok.” He scratches his head. “I mean…” He lets out a nervous laugh. “I can understand… why, uh…” He fidgets awkwardly, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“Thank you,” Rey says quietly. “For understanding.”

He looks up, his eyes softening.

“Of course.” He gives her a small smile.

She smiles back.

“Do you think…” She scrunches her face. “You could do me one last favor?”

He blows out an exhale.

“Sure.” He tries to sound upbeat, but she senses his hesitance.

Rey turns, glancing behind her.

Then she shifts back to Sylas.

“Could you…” She lowers her voice. “Look after him for me?”

At this, he relaxes.

“Oh, don’t worry.” He waves a hand. “I already to that.”

Rey’s smile deepens.

Without thinking, she steps forward, encircling him with a hug.

Sylas stiffens, arms hanging at his sides, not sure how to react.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she whispers. “I worry about him…” She squeezes. “I worry about him getting lonely.”

She holds on for a moment before withdrawing and taking stepping back.

Sylas looks uncomfortable, glancing from side to side

“Thanks for everything, Sylas.” She lifts a hand to his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Uh…” He looks a little confused. “Ok.” He shrugs. “I’ll see you around, then. I guess...”

She drops her hand, then steps past him, continuing to the front of the ship.

She walks swiftly past the Stormtroopers, still positioned on either side of the entrance, making her way carefully down the ramp.

The white-robed man is back on the landing deck now, chatting with a woman in a First Order uniform, the pilot probably. They both look up as Rey descends from the ship.

“Do you need an escort?” The man steps forward eagerly.   

“No, thanks.” Rey shakes her head. “I can find my way out.” 

She moves towards the door and he scurries past her, pressing a panel to open it.

“Thank you for the visit.” He bows as she passes.

She hardly glances at him as she moves on into the long, white hall.

She walks towards the elevator, reaching into her pouch to search for her comm. She pulls it out, switching on the receiver and bringing it to her lips.

“Daja?”

She lowers the device as she waits for a response.

“Rey!” Daja’s voice crackles in. “ _Where have you been!?_ ”

“Sorry,” Rey apologizes. “That took longer than expected.”

“ _Did that guy try something!?_ ” Daja demands.

“ _No_ , Daja. I’m fine,” she assures into the comm. “I’m heading back now.”

“Well, hurry up, alright.”

Rey stops at the elevator, pressing a button to open it.

“I just heard Kylo Ren’s command shuttle’s been spotted in the city. We need to get out of here _now_.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Rey steps into the elevator. “Get the Falcon ready for take-off, would you?”

The door slides shut behind her.

“I’m on it.”

Rey slips the comm into her pouch.

She turns around, clasping her hands in front of her as the elevator begins to descend.

Her mind is busy, pulled in different directions.

On the one hand, she feels a little guilty. She doesn’t like lying to Daja, and she regrets misleading Sylas, causing him to worry.  

Yet, at the same time, her spirits are _soaring_.

She still senses his presence, distant now, but there all the same. She thinks about their meeting, how he couldn’t keep from smiling when she entered the room, the softness of his lips when he greeted her with a kiss, the warmth of his hand at her back.

Her mind drifts to their agreement, the impending invasion on Kaddak.

Twelve days. That’s enough time.

The elevator door slides open, and Rey steps into the lobby, turning to head through the opulent lounge.

She’ll have to cut her current mission short. She and Daja will make their appointments tomorrow, then head back to the base on Dorajan.

She needs to prepare…

She’s already building a team in her mind, reviewing her options, starting with people who know a thing or two about explosives.

Rey runs through it all, the people she needs to talk to, the research she needs to do…

As she does, she feels a swell of excitement.

She wishes she could say it was just because of the new challenge that lies ahead, the fact that she’ll be saving so many lives.

That’s part of it.

But it’s also because she’s already missing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be January 19. Thank you for your patience!


	31. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey catches up with a friend before her mission to Kaddak.

“I don’t know, Rey.” Poe shakes his head. “I think we’re gonna have to replace the whole turbine.”

He leans forward on the grimy basement floor, pointing to the inner workings of the generator.

“The armature’s damaged, the rectifier’s shot, and even if we could reroute the power through the MT control, we’d still have problems with the field coil.”

Rey sighs.

“ _No._ ” She scoots forward. “Poe, I _told_ you, there’s no need to replace the turbine when we can shunt the field coil with a part from an old deactivator.” She gestures to the tattered machine behind her.

At this, BB-8 perks up. It starts rolling towards the deactivator.

“ _What?_ ” Poe jerks back. “That won’t work.”

BB8 halts.

“That’ll just cause a bunch of problems with start-up.”

 The droid’s head droops. It turns, rolling back to its place next to Poe.

“No, _it won’t_ ,” Rey insists. “Trust me, I’ve patched up _plenty_ of generators with parts from a deactivator and they work _just fine_.”

Poe grunts.

“Except for this one.” He points to the machine in front of them. “And two over there.” He waves down a long line of generators. “And one on the west side.”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“ _I_ wasn’t the one who repaired those.” She gestures to herself. “If I had, we wouldn’t be down here.”

Poe waves a hand dismissively.

“Regardless, not everything can be fixed by patching it up with an old part. At some point, you gotta call it a day and just gut it, pull out the turbine, maybe even the DC reverter.”   

Rey groans, covering her eyes with a palm.

“You never learn, do you?” She shakes her head, wiping her hand over her face. “This _just like_ Clava’s Palace, always going for the most _extreme_ solution when there’s a simpler one right in front of you.”

Poe lets out a sigh, sitting back on his calves.  

“I wanted to slip in through the docks, completely unnoticed, but _nooo_ , that wasn’t good enough for you, was it? Instead, we had to dress up as pleasure slaves, infiltrate the court, make a big scene in front Clava and _everyone_. And how did that turn out again?” She cocks her head.

Poe looks away, rolling his eyes.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“No, I am not,” Rey answers succinctly, leaning towards the generator.

A few seconds pass as she examines the field coil.

“It was worth it.”

Rey turns, knitting her eyebrows.

Poe shoots her a sly glance.

“To see you in that outfit.”

“ _What!?_ ”

Rey gives him a hard shove, and he topples over, right into BB8.

The droid rolls back and forth, regaining its balance.  

Poe rises to his knees, snickering, clearly pleased with himself.

Rey shakes her head.  

“ _I_ wasn’t the one who was propositioned _five times_ in ten minutes.” She points at him.

He just shrugs.

“Can’t help it if I’m handsome.” He winks.  

Rey looks down, fighting back a smile.

But it’s no use. The more she fights, the more her smile deepens. 

“So, what are we going to do about this.” She gestures to the generator.

He straightens, shifting forward, trying to refocus.

“I think…” He clicks his tongue. “We need a tie breaker.” He looks down at BB8. “What do you think, buddy? Should we replace the turbine or throw in an old part, try to patch things up?”

The droid rolls around Poe to position itself between him and Rey, taking a closer look at the machine. It bobs lightly as it examines, extending a probe to the field coil.

After a minute, it rolls back, withdrawing the probe into its body.

It looks to Poe, then Rey. Poe again, then Rey again.

Finally, it droops, letting out a quiet string of beeps.

Rey juts her chin up smugly.

“Traitor,” Poe grumbles.

But a second later, he reaches over to scratch the droid’s head.

BB8 perks up, chirping.

“ _Thank you_.” Rey nods to the droid. “Now, would you mind grabbing that part for me? You know the one I need.”

BB8 snaps back, then rolls briskly towards the deactivator.

“No, not that one.” She points to the end of the basement. “There’s another back there.”

The droid beeps once, turning to where she points, making its way between the wide aisle of generators stretching out across the basement floor.

“And can you check out those other two having problems while you’re at it?”

The droid beeps again, speeding up to roll quickly away.

Rey shifts to face Poe.  

He’s sitting on the floor now, a knee curled in his chest, staring at Rey with a strange sort of glimmer.

“What?” She looks him up and down.

“Nothing. Just…” He purses his lips. “I miss this.”

“You mean…” She squints teasingly. “Arguing about generators?”

“It’s not arguing,” he insists, scooting closer. “It’s banter.” He gestures between them. “And nobody does it better than you.”

She grunts, but can’t help smiling.

“But I feel like I hardly see you anymore.” He tilts his head. “Since you started that anti-slavery thing, it seems like you’re always gone.”

She scoffs lightly.

“That _thing_ is the reason this base is full of people right now.” She points to the ceiling.

“Oh, I know.” He widens his eyes. “ _Trust me_. You’re all I ever hear about. The people around here _worship_ you. In fact, I hear you’ve got a nickname now.”

At this, Rey glances down, pressing her lips together.

“Hold on, hold on.” Poe looks up. “Let me get this right.” He mouths the words, practicing silently.

“Ba- Barache Cab _ani_ ,” he finally says. “Barache Cabani,” he says again, a little more confidently.

“ _Chainbreaker_.” He squints at her.

Rey’s cheeks grow warm.

Poe lifts both hands, like he’s visualizing words in the sky.

“Rey, _Chainbreaker_.”

She shakes her head, her blush deepening.

“No, no, no.” Poe widens his hands a little. “Rey of the _Resistance_ , Chainbreaker.”  

She looks down, embarrassed.

“You’re getting quite the reputation, you know.” He nudges her. “And not just in the Resistance. People are starting to talk about the Chainbreaker.”

She bites her lip.

“You’re giving a lot of people hope. Just knowing someone like you is out there.”

Rey looks up and is met with soft eyes gazing into hers.

She lets out a nervous laugh, turning away.

“It’s not just me.” She shifts a little. “I’m nothing without my team.”

“A team _you_ built.” He nods emphatically. “You started with twenty, and how big our you now? Four hundred strong?”

“Three hundred,” she corrects him.

“Still, that’s quite an accomplishment.” He turns his head. “And with all the buzz you’re creating, the people you’re recruiting… You’re the most valuable member of the Resistance right now, next to the General.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

 “I’m proud of you.” He beams. “You’ve really shown people what you’re made of, that you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh really?” She perks up. “Would you…” She squints a little. “Mind saying that again?”

“Uh…” He looks confused. “What? That I’m proud of you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she answers. “And I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure.” He straightens. “I’m pr—”

“Wait!” She lifts a finger, leaning around him.

“BB8!” She calls loudly. “Could you come back for a minute? I need you to record something for posterity!”

Poe scoffs.

BB8 pops out from behind a generator far down the aisle, just barely visible.

“Ignore her!” Poe shouts, twisting around.

The droid pauses a moment. Then it disappears.

Rey smiles, sticking her tongue out as Poe turns back to her.

“Very cute,” he says wryly.

“In all seriousness…” She’s still smiling. “ _Thank you_. That really means a lot to me, especially coming from you. I know we haven’t always gotten along, so it matters all the more that you’ve grown to trust me, to trust my judgement.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening. For a few moments he just studies her, a strange look in his eyes.

She sits up, gazing back at him.

And that’s when it hits.

Subtle but unmistakable. A warm glow welling within.

For a split second, she could swear he starts to lean in.

But she immediately jerks back, shifting to the generator.

Poe sinks inwardly. 

“Anyways…” She reaches into the machine, grazing the field coil. “It’s nice to know you have my back.” She glances at him. “And you know I’ve always got yours. That’s the important thing right now. Like Leia says, solidarity can win a war, squabbling can lose one.”

He leans back with a sigh, resting his palms on the floor behind him.

“She would know.” He raises his eyebrows. “Speaking of which, did you hear she approved Madani’s plan?”

Rey instantly snaps up.

“Yep.” He nods. “The admiral’s putting teams together as we speak. They’ll be going to all the planets the First Order’s likely to negotiate with, trying to convince the powers that be to keep their resources to themselves.”

“But not any planets they’re currently negotiating with, right?”

“No.” Poe shakes his head. “But we _are_ recruiting donors from those systems. Leia thinks the First Order will be less likely to go after them since it could cause a stink, possibly interfere with their negotiations.”  

Rey presses her lips together.

“Things are starting to heat up.” Poe swells with satisfaction. “We’re getting closer, Rey. Every single day. This war’s about to get real. And we’re _ready_ for it.” He sits up. “We’ll be raiding First Order facilities in six months, maybe less.” He smirks. “Kylo Ren’s about to get a swift punch in the gut.”

Rey looks down.

“Do you… really think we’re ready?”

“We’ve _been_ ready.” He doesn’t skip a beat. “It’s time to finally _do something_ , get off our asses and take a stand.”

Rey lets out a slow exhale, bringing her hands to her lap.

“I suppose it is,” she says quietly. She bores holes into the floor.

“Hey.”

She looks up at the sound of Poe’s voice.

He reaches over, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re _ready_ for this.” He dips his chin. “You know that, right?”

She waits a moment, then gives a small nod.

Poe squeezes gently.

“You _are_ ,” he assures. “And you’re gonna show _everyone_ that Kylo Ren _is_ _not_ the most powerful person in this galaxy.”

Rey’s throat tightens.

Poe withdraws his hand, a gleam in his eye.

She turns to the generator, trying to quell a sick feeling in her gut.

Suddenly, she straightens, just remembering something.

She snaps to Poe.

“Weren’t you supposed to be in the training room at 1500?”

“Oh, shit!” He jerks back.

He shoots to his feet, brushing the grime off his pants.

“I gotta go.”

He pulls a chrono from his pocket.

“Shit, I’ve _really_ gotta go.”

He turns and starts racing towards the exit.

But he halts halfway there, whipping around.

“You’ll be at dinner, right?”

She nods.

“Good. I wanna see you before you leave. Where are you going this time?”

She tsks.

“Can’t tell you that. We’re playing this one close to the chest.”

He narrows his eyes, suspicious.

“ _Trust me_.” Rey leans forward. “It’s in everyone’s best interest that we keep this one quiet _._ ”

He purses his lips, still suspicious, but turns slowly.

“You know what you’re doing, Rey,” he shouts as he heads for the exit. “Just make sure you’re careful, alright?”

“Always!” She lifts a hand to project her voice.

He slaps a panel by the door, charging out of the room the instant it whirs open.

But he sticks his head in before it closes.

“Hey!” He calls. “Bring BB8 back when you’re done?”

“Yep!” She nods.

He nods back, then snaps away, disappearing down the hall.

The door whirs shut behind him.

For a moment, Rey sits still, staring at the door, half expecting him to pop in again.

Then she turns to face the generator.

She stares blankly, hardly noticing it.

After a minute, she sits back on her calves, blowing out a long exhale.

She looks up to the ceiling, her mind busy with thoughts about Poe— everything they just talked about, the look in his eyes when he said he missed her.

She sighs, shaking her head.

Truth is…

She misses him too. She’s really grown to like him, and not just because of his street-smarts, his values, his heroism.

He’s a good man.

Then again, that’s _exactly_ the reason she’s glad to be away from the base most of the time now.

She droops, remembering what she sensed in him only a few minutes ago.

She recognizes that feeling.

It’s not the first time she’s sensed it in him, either. And every time she feels it, it grows a little bit stronger…

She buries her face in a palm.

If she were at the base more, this would be a problem she’d have to deal with. But since she’s gone so much, she can’t help but push it to the side, put it off, hoping that maybe, _just maybe_ …

She drops her hand, sighing.

She knows what she _should_ do.

She should be honest with him, let him down easy, tell him she doesn’t think of him that way.

But the idea of hurting him absolutely _crushes_ her.

She pictures his handsome face, crestfallen, imagines his heart, that _golden_ heart, breaking into pieces.

No.

She can’t bear that. Not for a single minute.

She can only hope that in time the feeling will pass, that he’ll move on, meet someone else, someone who will return all those warm feelings and _so much more_.

If anyone deserves that, it’s him.

Rey stares into the floor, wishing _desperately_ that the cosmos would send someone Poe’s way, someone _wonderful_ , someone who would make her look like a cheerless dump in comparison.

She focuses on this idea, tries to picture it in her mind, what she might be like, the perfect person for him.

She should be beautiful, of course. And have a bit of flair. She should be confident, funny, street-smart and maybe even a little edgy, someone to keep him on his toes.

She runs through a catalogue of faces, people she knows, their backgrounds, their personalities, searching for someone who could be _just_ the right fit…

But for some reason, Daja’s the only person who comes to mind.

Rey grunts.

No, that won’t do. Those two would _kill_ each other.

She sighs.

Then, she snaps up, shaking her head briskly.

She shifts her focus to the generator, reaching forward to graze the field coil.

That’s right… She can’t do anything without that part.

She leans back, peering down the aisle of generators, trying to catch sight of BB8.

But there’s nothing.

She pushes up from the floor, turning to walk a few paces to the old deactivator. She kneels down in front of it, starting to shift through the parts, all the while knowing that the one she needs isn’t here.

She starts sorting them into piles, one for junk and one for salvaging.

It’s not long before her thoughts begin to drift, back to Poe, this time to the last thing they talked about before he left.

She hears his words echo in her mind.

“This war’s about to get real. And we’re _ready_ for it.”

She cringes, dropping a part with a clang.

The Resistance may be ready.

But she _most certainly_ is not.

And the more she thinks about it, about what’s about to happen, about what all their hard work has been building to…

She tosses another part onto the junk pile, then sits back on the floor, planting her hands behind her.

She stares down, hardening her jaw.

Destroy the First Order.

That’s the endgame. Always has been.

It’s a great idea in theory. Rid the galaxy of people like General Hux, weapons like Starkiller, usher in an age of freedom and peace.

But then she thinks about the reality, what it would take to bring this vision into being.

She remembers what it was like to be on the first Starkiller when the planet started destabilizing, the earth opening up all around her, swallowing the forest whole.

She thinks about the base, all the people inside, the troopers, the technicians, the operators.

And she can’t help but wonder…

How many people like Sylas died that day? How many people like Finn? Just regular people, cogs in the machine?

So many lives…

Was it worth it? Was it worth it to sacrifice them all for the greater good?

Or is there another way, a _better_ way, one that doesn’t end in so much bloodshed? 

Rey shifts on the floor, hugging both knees into her chest, churning.

As she mulls over these questions, she can’t stop the memory from replaying in her mind.

She’s not sure why. On its face, there’s nothing particularly relevant about it.

Yet there’s _something_ in it, something she can’t quite put her finger on. It seems to contain the truth somehow, the answer to _everything_ …

She went Leia before she came here.

 _Of course_ she did. She always contacts her after she sees him, even if it’s at a distance, just to let her know what happened, how he’s doing.

But this time, she needed to see her in person.

She had to.

She couldn’t just pull the trigger on this plan with the invasions without running it by her, hearing what she thinks.

Leia reacted about how Rey expected her to.  

She pointed out that they’d be _helping_ the First Order, granting them quicker access to resources by diffusing the bombs and boosting their reputation by saving the slaves.

“So…” Rey leaned forward in her chair. “You think we shouldn’t do it?”

Leia sat back with a sigh.

“No,” she shook her head. “Those people’s lives matter more than this war. But you need to be careful,” she warned. “Prepare your team, and keep things quiet. I don’t want to hear about anyone getting locked in a First Order prison.”

Rey nodded.

“And _don’t_ do anything foolish.” Leia pointed at her. “Stick with the plan, and stay with your team. I don’t _ever_ want to hear about something like Apatros again.”

At this, Rey jerked back.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Leia leaned in. “Getting yourself sold to one of the most _dangerous_ gangs in the galaxy, going in those mines _alone_ , no back up, no plan for escape—”

“But I had a plan!” Rey protested.

“ _Oh, really?_ ” Leia raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, what was your plan beyond some vague idea that you’d find your way out of the mines and sneak a few people out while you were at it?”

Rey looked away.

“That’s what I thought,” Leia sat back. “Rey, I admire your confidence, I admire your guts, but you _have got_ to learn to exercise more caution. One day your _recklessness_ —”

“ _What!?_ ” Rey shot forward. “I can’t _believe_ you. You are _just_ _like_ him. Why can’t you both just _trust_ _me_ , trust that I know what I’m…”

But her voice trailed off, surprised to see Leia chuckling softly.

“The more things change…” The older woman shook her head.

Then she leaned back, a faraway look in her eyes.

“You two…” She smiled to herself. “Remind me so much of me and Han. Only he’s _me_ and you’re _Han_.” She widened her eyes.

Then she sighed, looking away.

“Han drove us both crazy, you know,” she continued, seeming to talk to no one. “That man thought he was _invincible_. He’d do the _stupidest_ things. And he was gone half the time, wouldn’t come back when he said he would. I’d try to contact him. _No answer_.” She rolled her eyes. “So, me and Ben would just wait, hoping he was still alive but preparing for the worst, imagining all the ways he could have gotten himself killed.” 

Leia sighed, a strange look on her face, wistful despite the darkness of the subject.

“Ben…” Her lips turned upwards. “He always wanted to be _just like_ his father.” Her eyes crinkled, old memories seeming to flicker across them.

“ _But_ …” Her smile faded. “He was always more like me instead.” She looked down.

Rey watched in silence, her heart weighed down by a heavy sadness, the one Leia carries around with her day in and day out.

It’s a familiar ache. A mirror of her son’s.

“He…” Rey spoke tentatively, “mentioned once that you fought a lot. You and Han.”

Leia pursed her lips.

“We did.” She nodded slowly. “But…” She squinted at Rey, a glint in her eye. “We always fought with love.”

“What?” Rey turned her head. “I don’t understand. How can you _fight_ with love?”

“Well, there are different kinds of fighting, Rey.” Leia sat up. “People fight with all kinds of intentions. Some fight to show dominance, to exert their will over another. Some fight to destroy, to tear someone down. But when you fight with love…” Her lips turned upwards. “You fight to build a person up, to make them stronger, _better_.” She leaned in.

“And when you _know_ that, when you _feel_ it in your heart,” She patted her chest. “Well…” She leaned back. “Those fights tend to end _very differently_ than the other kind.” She smiled to herself.  

Rey sees the woman’s face in her mind, almost as if she were sitting before her now— her soft features, that twinkle in her eyes. She remembers what she felt in her in that moment, a perfect peace, a rare respite from that deep sadness always tugging at her heart.

Rey shifts on the basement floor, slowly refocusing on the present.

She still hears Leia’s voice in her mind.

_“We always fought with love.”_

It seems like such an absurd concept, to _fight_ with love. How is such a thing even possible?  

But then she thought about it…

She thought about Ben. She thought about Poe. She thought about Daja. All of them people she loves _dearly_ , yet she finds herself fighting with them half the time they’re together.

She thought about how even in the heat of their _bitterest_ disagreements she still feels connected to them, still feels loyalty, still feels love. She thought about how these feelings seem to shape the course of the fight, guiding its outcome.

Then she started thinking even more…

And the more she did, the more the idea struck her.

It’s not just that there’s some truth in it…

Maybe it’s _the_ truth, the ultimate truth, the key to _everything_ — this war, the bond, the changes she and Ben are going through, all that’s happening between them.

Maybe _this_ is what it’s all about. Maybe _this_ is the purpose of the bond, of their relationship.

Maybe the Force is trying to teach them how to fight with love. Maybe it’s priming them, pushing them to turn the coming war in a different direction, one that won’t end in destruction and bloodshed.

Maybe…

Rey shifts, loosening her arms around her knees.

She looks down, _entranced_ by this idea, but also uncertain.

She drops her legs, crossing them and hunching over, staring blankly at the jumbled mess of parts in front of her.

She wishes, not for the first time, that the Force would send her some sort of message, something, _anything_ that lays it all out in _no uncertain term_ s— the purpose of the bond, why it works the way it does, what it’s supposed to be leading to, the grand destiny she’s meant to accomplish… 

She grunts.

_Fat chance._

She shakes her head briskly.

Then she takes a deep breath and sits up, trying to refocus on the task at hand. She rises to her feet, crouching, twisting around to call for BB8.

But suddenly, she freezes. 

She crouches, perfectly still, ears alert, like she’s listening for something.

But what she’s sensing is internal, something from within. It fades in slowly, a gentle warmth in her core.

Her lips turn upwards.

Well, if _that_ isn’t a sign, she doesn’t know _what_ is.

Rey shoots from the floor, swelling with satisfaction, the warmth rising, bringing his presence along with it.

She brushes the grime from her pants, then straightens, looking up and around.

The warmth surges out from her core and into her limbs, then vanishes as quickly as it came.

And just like that, she feels him in the room with her.

Her smile deepens.

She turns slyly, a hand on her hip.

He’s standing a few feet away, head cocked, a glimmer in his eyes.

“Didn’t I just see you?” She points teasingly.

She doesn’t wait for a response, immediately skipping to meet him.

He steps towards her, not bothering to examine the surroundings.

His eyes are only on her.

She halts with a hop in front of him.

“How are you?” She asks cheerily.

He gazes down, seeming to take a moment just to enjoy the sight of her.

“A lot better now.” He lifts a hand to her face, leaning down to greet her with a kiss.

She rises to her toes, eager to meet him, curling a hand behind his neck.

They connect softly.

She flattens to the ground, smiling.

“And how are you?” He slips a hand behind her waist, drawing her closer.

“Better now,” she whispers.

He smiles, leaning in.

They kiss again, lingering this time, taking a moment to revel in the sensations, soft flesh connecting, warm bodies pressed against each other, sweet scents teasing their nostrils, making them lightheaded.

He inhales deeply as he pulls away, seeming to breathe her in.

They can’t take their eyes off one another, can’t keep their hands from traveling, hers brushing locks of hair from his face, his sliding up her back, tracing the curves of her body.

They connect again, their lips meeting once, twice, three times, blending into a string of kisses, almost like a conversation, each one a little different, communicating its own nuance of tenderness and affection.

She wraps her arms around his neck and he tightens his hold.  

But suddenly, she snaps back, eyes wide.

“What?” He knits his eyebrows.

“Just…” She unwraps her arms and pushes against his chest. “One second.” She lifts a finger.

She runs over to the door, stopping just beside it. She glances up, searching her mind for a moment, then flips open the keypad and enters a security code to lock.

She turns away when she hears a beep of confirmation, heading back to Ben.

“This isn’t exactly a private room,” she explains as she walks. “And there are a lot of people on this base.”

He nods, taking a moment to look around the basement, down the rows of generators stretching out on either side.

“It doesn’t look like anyone comes down here much.”

“No.” She slows as she gets closer. “But I’d rather not take any chances.” She stops just in front of him. “Don’t you ever worry about that?” She tilts her head. “People walking in during the bond?”

“I don’t have to,” he says matter-of-factly. “No one enters a room I’m in without my _express_ permission.”

She grunts.

“Well that must be nice.” There’s an undertone of mocking in this response.

But he doesn’t seem to notice, already slipping a hand behind her waist.

He starts to lean in, a smile on his lips.

But suddenly, they both jerk back, snapping to the side.   

BB8 rolls swiftly down the aisle, a probe sticking out from its body, the part Rey asked for in hand.

She instantly pushes against Ben, stepping away.

The droid slows as it gets closer, stopping just below them.

It turns its head to Rey, then Ben. Rey again, then Ben again.

Finally, it looks to Rey, letting out a string of beeps. 

“Yes, BB8.” Her eyes flit upward. “This is my friend.”

BB8 chirps a question.

“What do you mean how did he get here? Through the door of course.” She gestures behind her.

The droid doesn’t appear convinced, rolling its head back to examine her.

Rey crouches, twitching.

“Did you check out those two having problems?”

It beeps a response as she takes the part, then withdraws the probe into its body. 

“Are you _sure_ we have to pull out the turbine?” She rises, turning to the generator she was working on with Poe.

The droid beeps matter-of-factly.

“Well, if you say so.” She crouches in front of the machine, reaching out to graze the field coil. “But the other one can be repaired with one of these, right?” She wiggles the part in her hand.

BB8 chirps once.

“Good,” she replies. “There’s another deactivator on the west end.”

The droid turns and begins rolling down the other side of the aisle.

“Wait!”

It halts when Rey calls.

“Actually, before you go…” She gestures for the droid to come close. “Will you check out the DC reverter in this one and tell me if you think it should be replaced?”

BB8 beeps in assent, rolling back to the generator.

“Thanks.” She rises. “I really think it’s fine for now, but I’d appreciate a second opinion.”

BB8 moves close to the machine, extending a probe inside it. It rifles around, making quiet noises, talking to itself as it examines.

Rey turns to Ben.

He’s eyeing her coolly, a condescending look on his face.

“Really?” He points to the droid. “This is what the Resistance has you doing? Fixing generators?”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“I _volunteered_ for this, Ben.” She steps towards him. “Believe or not, I actually _like_ doing this. It’s so satisfying— Spend an hour with a machine, fix it, walk away feeling accomplished.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Don’t you have more _important_ things to attend to?” He asks pointedly. “Like _preparations?_ ”

“We’re already prepared.” She juts her chin up. “I’ll do one more debriefing tonight, then we’re off tomorrow morning.”

“To Kaddak?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Slave market on Savereen. But we’ve got someone on the inside who’ll make sure we get sold to the right place.”

“And you’re _certain_ of this?” He leans in.

“Yes, Ben.” She sighs. “I know what I’m doing. Apatros was a fluke, and I’ve got _way more_ contacts posing as slavers than I had then. _Trust me_. We’ll end up right where we need to be.”

He straightens, eyeing her doubtfully.

But he decides not to push any further.

Instead he steps to the side, clasping his hands behind him.

“And what does your team think of all this?” He walks a few steps.

“There are….” She clicks her tongue. “Conflicting opinions. But I’ve been careful to choose people who know what’s at stake and understand the importance of discretion.”

“And how many have told?” He turns to face her.

“Only those tapped for the mission, fifteen recruits plus me. And—” She catches herself before finishing. “The General.” She looks down.

She feels Ben’s eyes on her.  

“So…” He starts reluctantly. “What did she have to say?”

Rey takes a deep breath.

“She doesn’t like the idea of giving the First Order quicker access to the planet’s resources. But…” She looks up. “She likes the idea of a thousand slaves getting buried alive a lot less.”

His eyes flicker.

“She’s a good woman, your mother,” she finishes quietly.

At this, he turns away, a flash of pain in his heart.

The feeling is brief but crushing, like someone just reached into his chest and squeezed.

Rey’s throat tightens.

“So, no one else in the Resistance knows?” He quickly moves on.

“No.” She shakes her head. “And I intend to keep that way. Even after we’re done.”

“Good.” Ben nods. “ _Very_ good.” He walks towards her. “And you don’t have any questions, anything you need to know?” He stops just in front of her.

She looks to the ceiling.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “I assume it will be like Apatros, your troops will show up at dawn, the battle will start around noon…” She raises an eyebrow to confirm.

“More or less.” He tilts his head. “The timeline may shift depending on a couple of factors, but you should have at least five hours between the time we arrive and when the fighting begins.” 

“And you’ll be there, right?” She looks up eagerly.

“ _Yes_.” His lips turn upward. “I’ll be there.” He lifts a hand to her face.

 

Her cheeks grow warm at his touch.

She smiles as he leans in, his lips seeking hers.

But suddenly, she jerks back, glancing to the generator.

BB8 snaps to face the machine. It starts whistling softly, putting on a show of focusing on its work.

Rey narrows her eyes.

Ben twists to look at the droid.

“What?” He turns back to her. “You’re worried about _droids_ finding out about us now?”

“That one…” She lowers her voice. “ _Yes_. It’s very nosy and…” She leans around Ben, eyeing the droid. “Is known to record conversations without people’s permission.”

At this, BB8 swings around, whining.

“Don’t deny it!” She points to the droid.

It droops guiltily for a moment before turning back to the generator.

Rey looks to Ben, shaking her head.

“It sure is taking a long time to asses that reverter.” He raises an eyebrow.

She nods once, catching his meaning.

She steps to the side, eyeing the droid.

“BB8,” she calls crisply.

The droid chirps once.

“How’s the reverter looking?”

It lets out a complex range of beeps, a probe still extended into the machine.

“Yeah, I think you’ve had _plenty_ of time to give it a good look.” She crosses her arms, walking towards it.

BB8 chirps defensively, withdrawing the probe into its body.

“Uh huh.” She observes the droid coolly. “I’m sure you weren’t at all motivated by an opportunity to eavesdrop.”

It whines, rolling back and forth.  

“Yes, I _do know_ you like to be thorough.” Rey drops her arms. “So why don’t you take your _thorough_ little self to the west end to pick up that part for me, aye?” She points down the aisle of generators.

BB8 beeps once, then begins rolling to where she points, _very_ slowly.

Rey rolls her eyes.

“Chop, chop.” She claps her hands, and the droid speeds up a little. “And didn’t Poe just say there’s another one down there having problems?”

The droid beeps a couple of times, slowing.

“Well, take a look while you’re at it, will you?”

The droid picks up its pace.

“And feel welcome to be _very_ thorough!” Rey calls after the droid.

BB8 beeps haughtily as it speeds down the aisle.

“Silly thing.” Rey shakes her head. “Good droid, though. Very loyal.” She turns to Ben with a smile.

But it fades when she notices his expression.

He seems colder now, guarded.

“So…” He purses his lips. “Poe was just here?”

“He was…” She answers slowly, confused by the sudden change. “But he won’t be back any time soon, so no need to worry.”

“Isn’t he a pilot?” He narrows his eyes.  

“Yes...” She tilts her head.

“Then what is he doing fixing generators?”

“He doesn’t, usually.” She shrugs. “Which is…” She tsks. “For the best.”

“Then why was he _down_ here?” He demands.

“Because…” She knits her eyebrows. “He wanted to help. And we don’t get to see each other much these days, so it was a good chance to catch up.”

Ben twitches, walking towards the deactivator.

Rey studies him closely, trying to read him.

He feels… strange. Almost like he’s angry.

She can’t imagine why. She knows he interrogated Poe once, but from what she heard, the encounter was brief and he got exactly what he wanted. If anyone has a reason to be angry, it’s Poe, not him.

Maybe there’s more to the story than Poe revealed…?

She continues to observe him, attuned to his inner rhythm. He nudges the deactivator with a boot, still burning with a strange kind of anger.

Perhaps she should change the subject.

“You know…” She steps towards him. “I was thinking about something just before you got here—”

“He’s not on your team to Kaddak, is he?”

“Who?” She jerks back. “Poe?”

Ben turns slightly, raising an eyebrow.  

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’s not involved with the anti-slavery initiative at all. He’s too busy running the base.” She points to the ceiling.

“Good.” He turns away. “I don’t want someone like him involved.”

“What do you mean _someone like him_?” She crosses her arms.

“ _I mean_ …” He whips around to face her. “A loose canon. And a _fool_.”

“Poe’s _not_ a fool,” she says defensively. “Well…” She bobs her head. “He can be foolish sometimes, but he’s not a fool. He’s a brilliant pilot. And a strong leader. He was my boss before I started my own project.”

“ _I figured_ ,” Ben spits.

Rey drops her arms, a bit bruised by his tone.

“You _figured_?”

“Wasn’t _he_ the reason you ended up a stowaway on a First Order transport, _exhausted_ and badly injured?”

“ _No_.” She flits her head. “That wasn’t his fault.”

“But it was _his idea_ to steal First Order tech, was it not?”

“Yes,” she admits begrudgingly. “But it wasn’t his fault that things went bad. It just happens sometimes.”

“Like it happened when I found you half-naked in a slaver’s dungeon?”

Rey sighs.

“That was…” She blows out a puff of air. “ _Definitely_ his fault. But he learned his lesson.” She pauses. “Kind of.” She looks down.

She feels Ben’s eyes on her, feels him burning with a strange kind of fire, like anger and something else, something she can’t put her finger on…

She looks up and he immediately turns away, walking back to the deactivator.

She presses her lips together, studying him.

Part of her wants to press further, to get to the bottom of what she’s sensing.

But the stronger part of her would rather set him at ease, not waste their time bickering over something silly.

She steps forward, moving just next to him. She reaches for his hand, weaving her fingers between his.

He looks over at her, his coldness fading.

She squeezes gently.

He turns to fully face her, his eyes softening, gazing into hers.

She smiles.

“If you don’t mind a change of subject…” She lifts a hand to his face. “I have something more important I’d like to discuss with you.” She strokes back a lock of his hair.

He gives a small nod.

“Good.” She caresses his cheek with a thumb. “Because I was thinking about something before you got here, something about the bond.” She drops her hand. “Just before Poe left, we got to talking about the war—”

“If I were you...” He jerks his hand from hers. “I wouldn’t put much stock into anything _Poe says_.”  

Her shoulders drop.

“It wasn’t anything he said _specifically_.” She sighs. “It was more the subject matter, the fact that—”

“Because if you’re not careful, that man’s going to get you _killed_ one day,” he spits.

“ _Ben_.” Rey sucks in a breath. “I _told you_. Poe _is_ _not_ my superior anymore. He has absolutely _zero say_ in _anything_ I do.”

“Are you sure about that?” He crosses his arms. “He’s your friend, isn’t he? A leading figure in the Resistance? Are you telling me you never consult with him, listen to his advice?”

“I mean…” She shrugs. “I do get his perspective sometimes. But that’s because I value his opinion. He’s been with the Resistance a lot longer than I have, and I still have things to learn.”

“And what _exactly_ can you learn from Poe?” He leans in, eyes cutting. “How to put your life in danger in newer and stupider ways?”

“ _Ben!_ ” Rey’s hands fly up. “What is _wrong_ with you? Why are so stuck on Poe, on judging a man you don’t even know?”

“Because I _do_ know him.” He straightens. “I know men like him. And I see the influence he has over you.”

“What?” She jerks back. “What do you mean? What influence?”

“ _I mean_ …” He steps in close, bearing over her. “Your _recklessness_ , the way you’re willing to put your life on the line for practically _nothing_. A man like that—” He points to the door as though Poe were standing on the other side. “A man who will put himself against all odds, who will run straight into the line of fire just to _show off_ —”

“That’s not showing off!” She protests. “That’s being _a hero_ , that’s being the kind of person who faces danger head on instead of running away.”

“That’s not heroism.” Ben shakes his head. “That’s _idiocy_. Think about it. What does it accomplish to sacrifice yourself, to sacrifice the lives of others, to fight a battle you can’t win? Isn’t it better to exercise discretion? To think _strategically_ and choose to engage only when the odds are in your favor?”

Rey scoffs.

“If _everyone_ waited until the odds were in their favor to act, then _nothing_ would ever change. Bullies would stomp all over the galaxy and _so many people_ would have absolutely _no reason_ to hope that their lives will _ever_ get better.” She gestures emphatically.

Ben glares at her for a moment, his jaw hardened.

Then he steps to the side, walking away, his shoulders tense and rigid.

“You know…” Rey crosses her arms. “You say Poe’s a show-off but the truth is…” She turns her head. “He doesn’t even think of himself as a hero. And in my eyes, that makes him _more_ of a hero.”

Ben halts, his back to her, that strange fire returning.  

“He doesn’t put himself in danger for glory or recognition but because he _cares_. He cares _so much_. You have no idea.” She steps towards him. “I feel it in him all the time, how much he cares about _everyone_ — the people in his charge, the people he answers to, even random people, people he doesn’t even know. He cares about _all of them_.” She stops next to Ben.

But he says nothing. He doesn’t even look at her, only stands in silence.

“And when he puts himself against the odds, he doesn’t do it because he _wants_ to, he does it because he feels like he _has_ to— for them, for _everyone_ , for all the people too small or too weak to fight for themselves.”

Ben doesn’t move. He simply stares forward, his hands clasped behind him.   

Rey watches closely, trying to read him, baffled by that strange burning in him, a mixture of anger, resentment, and…

Heartsickness?

They stand silently for a minute.

“You…” Ben glances at her. “You really do like him, don’t you?”

“Well…” She knits her eyebrows. “Of course, I do. He’s my—”  

And just like that, the realization hits, what she’s been sensing in him, what this whole thing has _really_ been all about. 

Her face grows white.

“ _Oh, Ben_.” Her heart swells with compassion. “No.” She shifts to face him. “No, no, no. I do like him but… not like that, not in the way you think.”

She reaches for his hand but he turns before she can take it, walking down the aisle.

She follows him with her eyes, that heartsickness weighing as heavily in her as it does in him.

“Ben, _please_. Listen to me.” She steps after him, reaching for his shoulder.

But he jerks away.

She sighs, dropping her hand.

“I do…” She starts hesitantly. “I do love Poe. But as a _friend_ , a very dear friend. I don’t think of him _at all_ the way I think about you.”

He grunts.

“Is that right?” He shoots her a look.

“ _Yes,_ ” she answers. “Ben, I _promise_ you—”

“Rey.” He shakes his head. “You can’t lie to me, remember? We’re bonded. I feel what you feel.” He continues down the aisle.

She watches him go, that pain deepening.

“Ben.” She scuttles to meet him. “I don’t know what you think you’re feeling, but it’s _not that_.” She grabs his arm, stopping him, her eyes pleading with his.

But he just stares straight ahead, hardened like a statue.

“It’s _not_ ,” she repeats.

He doesn’t move.

She drops her shoulders. 

“I…” She starts tentatively. “I respect him. I admire him.” She pauses. “I… I aspire to be more like him.”

Ben twitches.

“But I _am not_ in love with him.” She moves just in front of him, desperate to catch his eyes.

But they remain fixed on nothing.

“Ben.” She lifts a hand to his face. “Please look at me.”

Finally, he glances down, but his black eyes are cold, armored against entry.

“The way I feel about you…” Her throat tightens. “I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. _Anyone_.” Tears push at the backs of her eyes. “Not _ever_.”

He softens.

But that fire still burns inside him, low but _relentless_ , like it’s eating him slowly from the inside.

He lifts a hand to her cheek, his face blank except for the faintest trace of sadness.

Then steps around her, walking towards the deactivator.

“Tell me something, Rey.” He lets out a heavy exhale. “Have you…” He halts, straightening. “Have you ever…”

He stares down, shoulders hunched.

“Have you ever talked about me the way you just talked about him?”

“I-I…” Rey sputters, caught off guard by the question. She looks down, searching her mind, running through her conversations with Leia.

“That’s what I thought,” Ben says quietly.

“ _But…_ ” She lets out a huff. “That’s not a fair question. I don’t have anyone to talk to about you. And it’s not like I can go around _extolling_ the virtues of Kylo Ren given the company I keep.”

“And if you _could?_ ” He whips around. “If you could talk to people about me, what would you say?” He cocks his head. “That you _respect me_?” He steps forward, eyes piercing. “You _admire me_? You aspire to be more _like me_?”

“To…” Rey shrinks a bit. “To a degree, yes.”

“But not like Poe.”

She sighs, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“Ben—”

“ _Don’t bother_ ,” he spits. “No need to explain yourself. I can _feel_ your answer.”

He turns, stalking away.

But he slows after only a few steps, halting outright.

He shakes his head, looking to the ceiling.

“You…” He grunts softly. “Even after all that’s happened, you…”

He hesitates, stiffening.

“You still think of me as the villain.”

“That is _not_ true.” Rey shoots towards him, reaching for his shoulder.

He jerks away, but she just moves around him, planting herself in front of him.

“You know _exactly_ how I think of you.” She looks him straight in the eyes. 

He tries to look away, but can’t do it, caught in the intensity of her gaze.

“Don’t…?” She steps in close. “Don’t you remember?” She tilts her head. “In the throne room? When I let you into my mind? Into…” Her voice falters. “Into my heart?”

His eyes flicker.

“You remember, right?” She pleads. “What you saw? What you felt? The way I see you, the way I think of you?” A tear rolls down her cheek.

He softens.

“ _Ben_.” She brings a hand to his face. “You _know_. You _know_ that I see you, _all of you_ , the person you are, the hero you can become. You _know_ —” Her voice breaks, tears running down her cheeks. “You know that you have my _heart_.” She strokes back his hair, her gaze locked on his.

He gazes back, looking as torn as he feels, his eyes pained, conflicting emotions flickering across them, compassion and coldness, love and heartache.

“But…” He twitches his jaw. “He has your admiration.”

She gulps.

She wants to deny it, to assure him that she admires _him_ just as much as she admires Poe.

But she can’t do that.

Because she can’t lie.

She stares up at him, a hand still at his cheek, _desperately_ searching her mind for something to say.

Suddenly, she gasps, sensing it before it happens.

Without thinking, she grabs the nape of his neck and pulls his lips to hers, rising to meet him.

But they barely connect before he’s gone, his warm body disappearing all at once. 

Rey staggers, losing her balance.

She regains her footing, gaping at the space where he used to be, his scent still in the air.

Her breath is shallow, seeming only to enter the top of her lungs. Her face is wet with tears, her lips tingling, still feeling traces of his warmth.

For a minute, she just stares in silence, adjusting to the difference, the way the room feels now that he’s gone.

So cold. So empty.

She scrunches her face.

She tries to hold back, tries to keep the floodgates closed, squeezing her eyes shut.

But the tears burst through anyway.

She buries her face in her hands, shoulders heaving, tears pouring down in a steady stream.

But suddenly, she straightens, the tears halting at once.

She wipes her cheeks quickly, turning the other way, trying to regain composure.  

She peers down the long rows of generators, tilting her head. 

“BB8?”

Her voice echoes in the empty basement.

“BB8?”

The room is utterly silent.

“BB8, I _know_ you’re there. Come on. Stop hiding.”

At this, Rey hears a low beep.

A second later, BB8 rolls slowly from behind a generator only a few feet away.

She crosses her arms.

“BB8, how long have you been there?” She raises an eyebrow. “And where’s that part I sent you for? Did you even go _look_ for it?”

The droid lets out a low beep, drooping.

Rey sighs, shaking her head.

“Come here.” She uncrosses her arms, gesturing for it to come closer.

BB8 beeps once, rolling slowly to meet her.

She crouches before the droid.

“How much did you overhear?”

BB8 whistles, sliding its head back, rolling it from one side, then the other. Finally, it lets out a low range of beeps.

Rey balks, sitting back on the floor.

“ _Oh_ _BB8_ …” She covers her eyes with a palm. “You _have got_ to learn to mind your own business. That was a very, _very_ private conversation, and it was _not_ appropriate for you to listen in _at all_. Do you understand?”

The droid lowers its head.

She sighs, dropping her shoulders.

“It’s alright.” She strokes the droid’s head. “I’m not mad at you. I just need you to be more considerate, keep those nosy little wires out of other people’s business, ok?”

BB8 chirps, straightening.

“Good.” Rey crosses her legs. “Now we need to have a talk.”

The droid slides its head to the right.

“Remember the last time you saw my… friend?” She looks from side to side.

BB8 beeps slowly.

“Do you remember how I asked you to keep it a secret, to not to tell anyone?”

The droid beeps once.

“And you kept your promise, didn’t you? Like a good little droid.”

At this, BB8 perks up, beeping proudly.

“I _know_ you always keep your word. It’s one of your _best_ qualities.” Rey sits up. “And now, I need you to do it again. I need you to _promise_ me that you won’t tell _anyone_ about what you saw today, about what you heard. Can you do that for me?”

The droid doesn’t respond, only bobs from side to side like its uncomfortable.

“Oh, _come on!_ ” Rey goads. “You shouldn’t have even heard anything to begin with!” 

BB8 beeps defensively.

“That doesn’t matter!” Her arms fly out beside her. “What matters is that you did _exactly_ what you knew you shouldn’t have.”

The droid droops guiltily.

“BB8.” Rey slides closer to the droid, extending a hand to its rounded body. “ _Please_. I _cannot_ emphasize enough how important it is that no one finds out about this.”

The droid rolls its head up, beeping a question.

“Yes.” Rey’s eyes flit upward. “ _Of course_ , it’s always better to tell the truth. But I’m not asking you to _lie_. I’m asking you to keep quiet. You can do that, can’t you?”

BB8 beeps matter-of-factly.

She sighs.

“It’s not a lie of omission as long as no one asks you about it. And trust me, they _won’t_.”

The droid rolls its head back, eyeing her doubtfully.

“ _BB8_ ,” Rey whines. “ _Please._ Please, please, please.” She shifts on the floor, sitting back on her calves and leaning in, eyes pleading. “This is complicated human stuff that I can’t explain. All you need to know is that it’s of _dire_ importance that you keep this just between us. _Please._ ”

BB8 bobs from side to side, like its trying to make a decision.

“Let me put it to you this way.” Rey leans back. “You like Poe, don’t you?”

The droid beeps eagerly.

“You’re loyal to him, you want to see him happy and not sad, right?”

The droid beeps again.

“Well…” Rey sinks, looking at the floor. “If Poe were to _ever_ find out about what you heard today, about my… friend.” A pang of fear seizes her gut. “It would hurt him _very_ much.”

The droid jerks back, letting out an alarmed beep.

“I know you’d never want to hurt Poe.” She looks up. “Which is why it’s _so important_ that you keep this between us.” She leans in. “Ok?”

BB8 rolls its head back slowly. For a few seconds it says nothing, only examines Rey.

Finally, it straightens, letting out a range of beeps.

“What condition?” Rey knits her eyebrows.

BB8 wiggles a little, beeping haughtily.

Rey instantly rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She shakes her head, looking to the ceiling. “Fine,” she says again, clearly resentful. “You…” She crosses her arms. “You were _right_ about the sexual tension. Are you happy now?” She cocks her head.

BB8 chirps.

“Good. Now promise you’ll keep quiet.”

BB8 straightens, promising solemnly in beeps and whirs.

“ _Thank you!_ ” Rey shoots forward, encircling the droid’s round body with her arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

BB8 rolls its head back, like it’s not sure what to do.

After a few seconds, Rey straightens, letting out a relieved exhale.

“You really are the _best_ droid, you know that?”

BB8 beeps matter-of-factly.

“Well, I admire your confidence.” Rey laughs, pushing up from the floor.

She rises quickly, squaring her shoulders. 

“Alright.” She takes a deep breath. “Let’s try to finish our work, shall we?”

BB8 beeps in assent, twisting to roll down the aisle.

“Don’t worry about that!” Rey calls.

The droid halts.

“I’ll go down later to grab the part. Just help with this one for now.” She gestures to the open generator. “Besides I… I’d rather not be alone at the moment.”

BB8 beeps softly, rolling towards her.

Rey turns, heading for the generator, BB8 following behind. She halts when she gets to the machine, stooping to take a seat on the floor. She looks to her right, then her left, searching for the deactivator part.

BB8 rolls up beside her, beeping.

“Ah!” Rey twists behind her. “Right you are.” She grabs the part and turns the generator. “Let’s see.” She leans in close, extending a hand to the field coil.

She examines the inner workings of the machine, running through what she needs to do.

The images flash by, the steps she needs to follow, the things she needs to watch out for…

But it’s hard to concentrate with that look in Ben’s eyes flashing in the back of her mind, tugging at her heart.

She sighs, drooping.

In the next instant she sits up, refocusing on her work. She turns to BB8, extending her hand.

“Will you hold this for a minute?”

The droid opens a squared section of its body, a probe shooting out for the part.

“Thanks.” She hands it over.

Then she shifts to the generator, starting to loosen the field coil, taking note of the state of the rectifier beside it.

And just like that, she gets drawn in, losing herself in a complex arrangement of wires and parts, a mechanical order at once complicated and simple. She lets herself go, surrendering to her work, the comfort of a problem she knows she can fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to update by Feb. 2nd but I have two big reviews coming up at work so I may not make it until the 9th. Thank you for your patience! And as always, thank you for reading!


	32. Head and Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren holds a debriefing in his command shuttle after the invasion on Kaddak.

“Wait…” Colonel Vaden leans over the table. “ _None_ of them went off?”

“ _None_.” General Petrov sits back in his chair.  

“But…” Colonel Russo turns to the General. “What about the explosion on the South side? Wasn’t that one of them?”

“No.” Petrov shakes his head. “That was just some of the scum trying to escape, blocking off our troops so they could weasel their way out of the mines.” He grunts. “We caught them halfway to the Silver, neutralized them.”

Vaden narrows his eyes.

“So…” He starts slowly. “What happened? They just malfunctioned? _All of them?_ ”

“Well, that’s the interesting part.” Petrov sits up now. “According to the explosives team, they were diffused.”

“ _Diffused?_ ” Vaden cocks his head.

“That’s the report.”

“And it wasn’t them?” Russo scoots forward. “It wasn’t your team?”

“ _Definitely_ not.” Petrov turns his head. “The _first_ thing they did when we cracked into the base was go straight into the mines. But by the time they got there…” He lifts a hand.  

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Russo looks down.

“Or maybe it does.” Petrov turns to the colonel.

“ _How?_ ” Russo demands. “There was _no one_ down there who could’ve done such a thing.”

“No one…?” The General raises an eyebrow.

Vaden scoffs.

“Are you suggesting…” He leans in with air of condescension. “That the _slaves_ diffused the bombs?”

“Who else could it have been?”

“Really?” Russo grunts. “You think those gutter rats are even capable?”

“Maybe.” Petrov shrugs. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“But…” Vaden flits his head. “Even assuming they had the capability, how did they get it done so quickly? The mines are _miles_ long, and they had no way of knowing we’d be here.”

“They had time.” The General waves a hand. “Especially since the explosives were rigged on a grid. Looks like the delay you ordered paid off, sir.” Petrov twists to the Supreme Leader.

He stands facing the console, unmasked, his back to the group.

But he doesn’t respond to the General.

He just stands there.

Listening…  

“Well,” Russo lets out a sigh. “I suppose it’s possible. We would’ve drawn all the scum to the base this morning, cleared out the mines. Maybe that was all they needed. Who knows?” He purses his lips. “Maybe our benevolence to the slaves is starting to pay off…?”

“Or maybe they just heard about Kaller,” Vaden adds dryly.

“Either way,” Petrov sits up. “I think we’ve learned something today. These slaves…” He taps the table. “Could be _useful_ to us as more than just a publicity stunt. I say we send out a team to the operational camp tomorrow, start questioning them, find out more about—”

“ _No_.” The Supreme Leader turns abruptly. “We have more important matters to attend to.” He begins pacing the room.

“But, sir—”

“Vaden, I want you to start extraction on the East end.” Kylo ignores the General. “Stay _away_ from the operational camp and _away_ from the base.”

“Yes, sir.” The colonel nods. “The teams are ready; the equipment is here. We’ll start at first light.”

“Good.” Kylo continues pacing. “Russo, how long until the camp is ready for intake?”

The younger colonel sighs.

“Definitely not tomorrow.” He widens his eyes. “We barely finished set-up today. These slaves are _very_ uncooperative. My troops had the _worst_ time wrangling them. Half of them kept trying to wander off, refused to—”

“ _How long_ , colonel?”

Russo sits up, clearing his throat.

“Three days, sir. Assuming the slaves stay put and follow orders.”

“Make it two,” The Supreme Leader commands curtly.

Russo shrinks a bit.

“Petrov, what’s the latest intel on Ranc’s presence in the Silver?”

“Last I heard…” The General leans forward. “The gang’s headquarters took in only a few from the smaller bases, no more than a hundred. The rest of the scum are holed up in a canyon on the west side of the planet. Sources tell us they’ve got an armory there, but not a large one, nothing that could threaten us.”

“Is the canyon…” The Supreme Leader turns to the General. “Populated with civilians?”  

Petrov purses his lips.

“I…” He starts slowly. “Think there are a few sand tribes nearby. But they stay clear of the armory. Ranc makes certain of that.”

“Good.” Kylo continues pacing. “Then I want you to _bury_ them. Start with a round of aerial assaults in the morning.”

“With _pleasure_.” The General sits back with a smirk. “And the Silver?”

“Set up a perimeter around the headquarters,” he commands. “And be _subtle_ about it. I don’t want Ranc catching on before we evacuate the city.”

“Yes, sir.” Petrov straightens. “I’ll send in a stealth unit at dawn. I can even send them tonight, if you like.”

“No.” The Supreme Leader stops in front of the console. “There’s only one more thing I want from you tonight. All of you.” He turns to face the men at the table.

They all look at him, ready and alert.

Kylo stares coolly for a moment.

“Get some sleep,” he says finally.

The men visibly relax.

“You’re dismissed.” He turns to the console. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Russo’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Yes, sir.”

The men scoot back from the table, rising and filing swiftly into the hall of the ship.

The door whirs shut behind them.

Kylo listens as their footsteps recede.

He stands, perfectly still, until he hears them fade away.

Then he snatches the comm at his belt, bringing it to his lips.

“What’s the word from 928-C?” He demands.

He lowers the device, waiting.

“He’s on his way, sir.” The response crackles in. “He’ll arrive at the shuttle in five minutes.”

Kylo lets out a long exhale, like he’s been holding it in all day. 

“Clear the ship.” He commands into the comm. “I want everybody out before he gets here. Tell the guard to let Bonden and his guest in, then close the shuttle until morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kylo steps to the right console, setting the comm next to his mask. He pulls off his gloves, casting them on the counter, then turns to the meeting table.

He pulls out a chair, taking a seat slowly, a wave of exhaustion setting in as he does.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

He sits up, swelling with anticipation, tempered only by a hint of uncertainty. 

For a split second, the image flashes, the last time he saw Rey— her eyes pleading with his, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But he quickly buries the memory, banishing it to the edges of his mind, nothing left but a trace of regret.

He looks down, his jaw twitching.

He hates the way things ended last time he saw her. But it’s not an interaction he’s keen to dwell on. 

So instead, he just wonders what she’ll be like when she sees him, reviewing the possibilities in his mind.

Will she be cold, keeping him at arm’s length?

Not likely, given what he knows about her.

At the very least, she’ll be on guard, her senses heightened.

She’ll take her cue from him.

He takes a deep breath.

It’s been driving him _crazy_ all day, sensing her nearby, wondering, waiting…

He sits back with a sigh, shaking his head briskly, redirecting his thoughts to the only thing that can distract him.

Today was more than a success.

It was a _turning point_.

Petrov isn’t the only one convinced that the slaves diffused the bombs. He’s been overhearing talk all day— colonels, lieutenants, squad leaders— considering their treatment of the slaves as an investment, their best guard against this new trend of spiteful self-destruction.

He _can’t wait_ for this kind of talk to get back to the Supremacy.

This should shut Hux up, or at least counter all his pissing and moaning about wasting resources.

He drums his fingers on the table.

Yes, today went _very_ well.

The First Order suffered minimal casualties. The varium mines are theirs, practically untouched.

And he must admit… Rey’s team did good work. He never imagined they’d diffuse _all_ the bombs on top of getting the slaves out unharmed.

Things seem to have gone smoothly for them. Most everyone was out of the mines by the end of the battle, and she didn’t run into trouble that affected her vitals. He’s been monitoring them closely the past few days, trying not to think about her stuck underground, surrounded by cutthroats.

She can handle herself. He just needs to keep remembering that.

He was careful to modify the protocol on her tracker, just for the day, keep it from getting picked up by troopers. He can’t have them wondering why a slave is on the First Order’s no kill/ no injury list…  

Yes, everything worked out _perfectly_.

He leans back in his chair, swelling with satisfaction.

This is it. The first step.

Rey’s ascending, whether she realizes it or not, ascending to the position she was _meant_ to fill.  

A few more of these invasions and she’ll start to see, to recognize the opportunity that lies before her, all she could do with the resources of the First Order at her back.

She’ll start to see what the First Order _really_ is, all it could become with her at his side.

He’ll need to encourage her, listen to her, get her input on improvements— how to make things smoother, faster, better.

And the more they work together, the more she gets a taste of _true_ power—

Suddenly, his thoughts grind to a halt.

He sits up, his senses heightened.

The next instant, he shoots out of his chair, striding to his comm.

“928-C has arrived, sir.”

The announcement comes in just as he snatches the device.

“Let him in.”

He sets the comm on the counter, _surging_ with anticipation.

He turns to the door, clasping his hands behind him.

A minute later, he hears footsteps ascending the ship, followed shortly by the loading ramp closing with a clang.

The sound of chatter wafts down the hall. As the footsteps get closer, he starts to make out the words…

“You’re _kidding_?” Sylas is saying.

“Nope.” Rey sounds sure of herself, as per usual. “We got out of there in less than a week, took about thirty with us.”

“No way.” He pictures Sylas shaking his head. “No one gets out of the spice mines on Kessel. _No one_.”

“If you don’t believe me, I’d be happy to introduce you to some of the rescues. They’ll tell you all about it.”

They stop in front of the door.

“Yeah, sure,” Sylas says wryly. “I’ll just drop by a Resistance base, let you show me around.”

“You’re welcome any time.”

Sylas grunts.

The comm crackles as he activates it.  

“This is Sylas Bonden with uh…” He pauses. “A delivery?”

Kylo shakes his head.

He leans over, pressing a panel by the console.  

The door whirs open.

Sylas snaps to attention, his arms going rigid at his sides.

“Sir,” he greets. “Permission to—”

“Granted.”

Sylas nods, then steps into the room.

Rey follows close behind, draped in a brown cloak, lowering the hood as she enters.

“I, uh…” Sylas points to Rey. “Found her.”

“I can see that,” Kylo says evenly. “Did you have any trouble?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It was easy. We got stopped by some troopers but Rey just…” He purses his lips. “Kinda…” He squints. “Convinced them to leave us alone.” He waves a hand mysteriously.

Kylo glances at Rey.

She shrugs.

“Good.” He steps forward. “Sylas, you’re done for the day.”

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head. “Because I can still do stuff. I’m not at all tired.” He stifles a yawn as he says this.

Kylo grunts.

“Sylas.” He walks over to him. “ _Go to bed_.” He takes his arm, ushering him to the door.

“Well…” He sighs like he’s conceding. “I guess if you’re _sure_ you don’t need me.”

“I need you…” Kylo takes him into the hall. “To get some sleep. The bunks are yours.” He points to the front of the ship. “Be up at 0600. You’re going back to Borosk in the morning.”

“Oh, good.” Sylas blinks sleepily. “I’ve still got a lot work to do with those pirates.”

“Worry about that tomorrow.” Kylo lifts a hand to his shoulder. “Right now, just focus on getting _rest_.”

“Ok.” Sylas nods. “I can do that.” He smiles. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight.” Kylo moves a hand to his back, pushing him forward.  

Sylas makes his way down the hall, Kylo watching as he goes, waiting until he ducks into a room to the left. 

Then he shifts to the conference center.

Rey’s standing next the meeting table, facing the back console, her cloak and pouch draped over a chair.

Kylo walks into the room, pressing a panel on the wall.

Rey turns at the sound of the door.  

She tilts her head, studying him for a moment.

Then, a slow smile creeps across her lips.

The next instant, she lunges forward.

Kylo jerks back, barely reacting in time to catch her as she leaps into his arms, wrapping her legs around him.

She kisses him passionately, then pulls back with a huge grin, absolutely _beaming_.

“Was it not _perfect_?” She gushes. “Did everything not go _exactly_ according to plan? _Better_ even?”

Kylo gapes, caught off guard.

“Oh, come on!” Rey goads, dropping to the floor. “We diffused _all_ the bombs. You have to be just _slightly_ impressed, right?” She bounces a little, impatient for a response.

Kylo just stares, adjusting to the shock of the greeting.

Her face falls.

“Are you…?” She shifts a bit. “Are you still upset because—”

“ _NO_ ,” he practically barks.

She flinches.

“Because…” She squints a little. “I’ve felt just _awful_ since—”

“Rey.” He twitches. “Let’s just…” He takes a short breath. “Drop it. Ok?”

“Ok,” she whispers.

She presses her lips together, a little bruised.

Kylo softens.

He lifts hand to her face, grazing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

She relaxes, a smile returning to her lips.

His fingers caress her skin, then drift to her chin, tilting it up as he descends.

He meets her with a kiss, a lingering one, reveling in the sensation, how just the touch of her sweeps everything away, like a good night’s sleep.  

He pulls back, tracing the curve of her jaw.

“You…” He drops his hand. “Did _excellent_ work today.”

Her face lights up.

“I know!” She bounces. “I mean, it _really_ did go exactly the way we planned.”

He smiles, slipping his hands around her waist.

“We got here four days ago,” she starts excitedly. “Charted an escape route in two, mapped out an evacuation, and _then_ Rose discovered all the bombs were wired in groups so if you diffuse one, you diffuse them all. So—” She catches her breath. “When you arrived in the morning, we went right to work, disarmed all of them before you even stepped foot on the base.”

She grins, wiggling her hips in a little dance.

His smile deepens.

He descends and she rises to meet him, sliding her palms up his chest.

The connect softly, his hands moving up her back.

He pulls away, just an inch, keeping her close.

“And no one got hurt?” He rocks her a little, enjoying the feeling of her body in his arms.

“ _No one_ got hurt.” She smiles. “The rescues, my team— we made it out without a scratch.”

“Good.”

He tilts his head, leaning in for another kiss. 

But suddenly, he straightens, eyebrows furrowed.

“What about _this?_ ”

He gently takes her wrist, pulling out her arm to the side, a large, red welt with a burn in the center just below her shoulder.

“Oh.” She looks at the burn like she forgot it was there. “That didn’t happen in the mines. That was one of your troopers.”

“ _WHAT!?_ ”

“Yep.” She steps away, tracing the welt under the burn. “And this is _nothing_ compared to the man I was trying to defend. The trooper just went _nuts_ with an electric baton. It was awful.”

“Wha—” He sputters. “What did the man do?”

“Practically _nothing_.” She widens her eyes. “He was just worried about his wife, wanted to find her, make sure she was ok. But the troopers wouldn’t let us leave. They were separating us into sections in the camp, telling us we had to stay put or else.”

Kylo pushes out an exhale, nostrils flaring.

“How badly was he injured?”

“Could’ve been worse.” She tilts her head. “He had a broken arm, a cracked rib, and quite a few burns, but he’ll make it alright.”

Kylo sets his jaw, _fuming_.

Rey tsks.

“Since we’re on the subject…”

She steps to the side, moving around him.

“I think your troopers could stand a little _sensitivity_ training.”

He turns as she walk to the console.

“You know…” She hops on the counter, sliding back.  “In the Resistance, we train our cadets to be half soldier, half humanitarian worker.”

“Yes, well…” He grunts. “The First Order’s training philosophy is a bit different.”

“I’ve heard.” She looks down.

Kylo twitches.

“Would…” He clasps his hands behind him. “Would you say that trooper’s behavior was representative of the whole?”

Rey looks up, pursing her lips.  

“That I _saw?_ ” She starts carefully. “Not in his willingness to be so brutal. But in his attitude towards the rescues, the way he treated them like they were just pieces of junk to be sorted? _Definitely_.” 

Kylo begins pacing the room.

“And what do the slaves think of the troopers, of their treatment of them?”

“Honestly?” She scrunches her face. “They’re used to a lot worse. Your men are _princes_ compared to the overseers. Mostly, they’re just happy to be free.”

Kylo nods, continuing to pace.

“So, their overall impression of the First Order is positive?”

“Mostly, yes. Though…” She tilts her head. “There are conflicting opinions about your motivations.”

“What do you mean?” He slows to a halt.  

“Well…” Rey blows out a puff of air. “Let’s put it this way.”

She sits up, bringing her hands to her lap.

“I overheard a couple of them talking today. One of them was _convinced_ the First Order is _this close_ to declaring slavery illegal across the galaxy.” She lifts a hand, her thumb and index finger nearly touching.

“But…” She pulls her legs up, crossing them on the counter. “The other was certain this whole thing is just a publicity stunt, a way to boost your reputation, help your negotiations on other planets.”

Kylo looks away, starting to pace again.

Rey watches silently.

 “So…” She slides her jaw to the side. “Which one was right?”

He glances at her.

Then he turns, walking the other way.

“Neither,” he answers.  

Rey sits up, knitting her eyebrows.

“Then, what’s the truth? Why is the First Order doing all this?”

“Because,” he starts matter-of-factly. “We accomplish our goals more efficiently when we work _with_ local populations rather than against them. For instance…”

He halts, shifting to face her.

“Every time we free the slaves after an invasion, we gather a group of volunteers to help us navigate the mines, plan our extraction. And they’re _happy_ to do it.”

Rey narrows her eyes.

“Isn’t that…” She purses her lips. “A bit self-serving?”

“So.” He shrugs. “Is it not good when two parties’ goals align, when self-interest can be harnessed for the benefit of both?”

She tilts her head in concession.

“I guess that’s true.”

“And more than that…” He resumes pacing. “We’re establishing a precedent, a _relationship_. Empires are built on a contract between the ruler and the ruled. The sovereign protects those under his dominion and in return, the subjects give him loyalty and support.”

“If that’s the case…” Rey drops a leg, one still tucked on the counter. “Why not declare slavery illegal? If anyone needs your protection right now, it’s people like them.” She gestures to the camp outside.

Kylo pushes out an exhale.

“I can’t do that.” His tone is clipped.

“Why not?”

“Because I _won’t_ declare a law I can’t enforce,” he answers curtly.

“But…” She looks confused. “Why can’t you enforce it?”

“Rey…” He starts with a sigh. “We don’t have the infrastructure _or_ the manpower for that right now. Do you have _any idea_ what it would take to shut down all the slave markets and the galaxy?”

“I’d say I have a pretty good idea, actually.” She crosses her arms.

“Then you _know_ what a massive undertaking that would be, how much time and effort it would require. We have bigger priorities at the moment.”

She scoffs.

“Like gobbling up the most valuable resources in the galaxy?” She cocks her head.

He twitches.

“Really, Ben…” She drops the other leg now. “How can hoarding everyone’s resources be more important securing people’s freedom, their right to their own life, their own choices?”

“You have _no idea_ ,” he bites.

She sits up with a huff.

“I know that you’re mining more resources than you can _possibly_ use, stashing them away in private facilities.”

He eyes her coolly.

“What’s the point, Ben?” She demands. “Why dig up a bunch of resources you don’t need?”

He slows to a stop, staring at her for a moment.

Then he steps forward, pulling out a chair to position directly across from her.

“You know…” He takes a seat, resting a forearm on the table. “I spent half my childhood on the Senate floor, listening to New Republic officials squabbling, trying to put out fires all over the galaxy.”

He shakes his head.

“The _Resistance_ talks about the days of New Republic as though it were a time of peace. But in reality?” He tsks. “There were wars all over, small ones but significant enough to disrupt trade, facilitate lawlessness, encourage sedition, cost thousands of lives.”

He leans in, dark eyes fixed on hers.

“And do you know…?” He starts deliberately. “What _motivated_ most of those wars, directly or indirectly?”

Rey perks up.

“ _Greed_ ,” he reveals darkly. “It was the fight for resources, the desire to _take_ what someone else has.”

She parts her lips, struck by this.

“But what if all of the resources worth taking were controlled by _one entity_ , powerful enough to _crush_ anyone who dared to steal from them?”

He raises an eyebrow.  

“ _Trust me_ when I tell you…” He sits back with a glimmer. “What the First Order is doing now will save more lives than you can _possibly_ imagine. We’ll stop a thousand wars before they even begin.”

Rey stares at him, her emotions written across her face.

He feels them as well as he sees them— the surprise, the wonder.

The admiration.

“That…” She starts quietly. “Makes sense.” She nods. “It’s a good strategy, trying to _create_ conditions for peace, build a galaxy where there are fewer reasons to go to war. It’s a noble goal.”

She tilts her head, a smile on her lips.

“You really are a good leader, you know.” There’s a gleam in her eyes. “There are even people in the Resistance who think so.”

She gazes at him softly.

After a moment, she looks down, pressing her lips together.

Kylo senses the shift.

“ _But_ …” He articulates pointedly.

Rey droops.

“But…” She glances up. “I don’t understand why you can’t _also_ eradicate slavery. Isn’t that just as much a part of creating a better, more peaceful galaxy?”

He blows out an exhale.

“It is.” He sits back, crossing his arms. “But when you’re a leader, you have to make tough decisions, prioritize some things at the expense of others. The First Order is growing, but our resources are finite. If we try to take on too much at once, we’ll become _exactly_ like the New Republic, descending into incompetence and doing _nothing_ well. Sometimes…” He turns his head. “Sacrifices must be made.”  

Rey grunts, looking down.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she says quietly. 

“What do you mean?” He narrows his eyes.

Her jaw hardens.

“Ben…” She scoots back on the counter, leaning forward. “You talk about making sacrifices, but do you really know what that means, what you’re asking?”

She looks at him expectantly.

He just stares at her.

“Let me ask you something.” She clasps her hands together. “When’s the last time you went hungry, not because you were too busy, but because you were _deprived_?”

She raises an eyebrow.

Kylo says nothing.

“Or how about this.” She sits up. “When’s the last time you were forced to do something you didn’t want to do, at the threat of losing your life if you didn’t?”

She tilts her head.

Still nothing.

“Or…” She gulps, looking down. “When’s the last time you saw someone you loved beaten or raped before your very eyes, without being able to do _a thing_ about it?”

Her lips start to tremble.

“When’s the last time you saw someone you loved taken away from you, _forever_ , for no other reason than because the person who owned them decided to sell them to someone else?”

She looks at him now, her eyes filling with tears.

He just stares at her, blank-faced.

“Ben…” She whispers. “You…” She tries to maintain composure. “You talk about sacrifice, but you don’t really know what you’re asking.”

She shakes her head.

“You’re so far away from it all.” She brushes the corners of her eyes. “You’re at the top. You see everything from a distance, always thinking about the bigger picture, the long-term. I’m not saying that’s bad.” She sits up. “I understand why you think that way. In your position, you _have_ to. But me…?”

She looks down, gripping the edges of the counter.  

“I’m on the ground. All the things I just described to you…” Her throat tightens. “I see them, up close and personal. I have to _feel_ it.” She pats her heart. “I have to feel what it’s like to live that way, to be so helpless, to see so much misery all around you and know that there’s _nothing_ —”

Her voice breaks.

“There’s nothing you can do to change it.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “So…” A tear rolls down her cheek. “You just grit your teeth and bear it, grasping at even the _smallest_ hope just to make it through. That, or…”

She hangs her head.

“You break,” she whispers. “Your spirit breaks. Long before your body.”

A few more tears escape down her cheeks.

Kylo watches in silence.

He feels heavy, like the pain of a billion souls is weighing on his heart, crushing it until it bursts— the blood, the flesh, the veins flying out in all directions.

He gulps.

He’s felt compassion before.

But not like this. He’s never felt _anything_ like this.

Rey wipes her face with the backs of her hands.

“All I’m saying…” She takes an uneven breath. “Is if you’re going to talk about sacrifice…” She lifts her eyes, her lashes wet with tears. “ _Know_ what that means. Know what you’re asking.”

Kylo just stares for a moment, frozen.

Then, he gives a small nod.

He looks away, leaning over slowly to rest his forearms on his knees. He clasps his hands together, boring holes into the floor.

They sit in silence for a minute, both at a loss, not sure what to say.

Finally, he shifts in his chair.

“What…?” He starts tentatively. “What would you do?” He looks up. “If you were me?”

Rey jerks back, surprised by the question.

“I…” She knits her eyebrows. “I don’t think I can answer that. I’m not like you. I don’t have the same priorities.”

“But what if you did?” He nearly cuts her off. “You _know_ me.” He scoots forward. “You know how I think, what I care about. So, what would you do?” He tilts his head. “About slavery? If you were in my shoes?”

She leans back, glancing at the ceiling, processing. She drums her fingers on the edge of the counter.

After a minute, she pulls both legs up, crossing them as she straightens.

“I think…” She starts deliberately. “I’d do a test run.”

“A test run?”

“Yes.” She nods. “If I _intended_ to address slavery once I felt like I had the resources, I’d prepare for that eventuality now. I’d practice shutting down slave markets on select systems, starting with the ones where slavery is new, where it’s causing the biggest stink, like Chandrila.”

Kylo scoffs, sitting back in his chair.

“There are no slave markets on Chandrila, Rey.”

“ _Oh yes_.” She shoots forward. “ _There are_. Slavery’s been spreading like _wildfire_ since the First Order destroyed the New Republic, or haven’t you noticed?”

She cocks her head.

“It used to just be a problem in the outer regions, but with no one around to enforce anti-slavery laws, it’s been creeping into the Mid Rim, the Inner Rim, the Core Worlds. I have a contact who tells me a market just opened up in Coruscant. _Coruscant_.” She widens her eyes. “They’re trying to keep things quiet, but it’s happening, Ben.” She shakes her head. “And to people on planets like that, slavery’s an old-world practice that only exists on backwater systems, not _civilized_ places. Honestly…” She leans back, dropping her legs over the counter. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard complaints about it already.”

Kylo looks down, bringing a hand to his jaw.

He’s heard rumblings. Nothing definite, only rumors about slave markets popping up in systems like Champala and Pasher.

But _Coruscant?_

If what Rey says is true, he’ll be hearing about that soon enough…

“ _But_ ,” she articulates the word. “If you go after the markets in those systems, you’ll appease all the powerful figures getting nervous, you’ll start developing infrastructure to deal with the problem, _and_ you’ll send a message— both to the slavers and the slaves.”

He looks up and is met by brown eyes sharp with conviction.

“You haven’t forgotten about them.” Rey leans in. “And you won’t be looking the other way forever.”

He stares at her for a moment, perfectly still.

Then, he sits up, squaring his shoulders.

“I like it.” He rests a forearm on the table. “It’s a good idea. Manageable. Practical. Though…” He purses his lips. “I’d have to find the right person to run the initiative, someone who understands slave markets— where to find them, how they work.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Rey instantly groans, throwing her head back.

“ _Ben._ ” She sighs. “I hate having to tell you the same thing over and over, but _apparently_ , you don’t listen, so I’ll say it _one last time_.”

She looks him dead in the eyes.

“I am _not_ joining the First Order. Not now. _Not ever_.” She gestures emphatically.

He stiffens.

“Rey.” He clicks his tongue. “Do you not realize that if you ran an initiative like the one you just described, you’d be saving more people from slavery than you could _possibly hope_ to through these little rescues you’ve been doing?”

Her jaw hardens.

“And did you or did you not say just a _few minutes ago_ that you _support_ what we’re doing with the galaxy’s resources, that it’s a _noble goal?_ ”

She rolls her eyes.

“I _did_ say that, but—”

“But _what?_ ” He challenges. “You don’t want to be a part of that? You don’t want to be a part of creating peace and stability, the kind that will _last?_ ”

“ _Ben_.” Rey sucks in a breath. “We have been _over_ this,” she hisses. “Just because the First Order is doing some good things doesn’t erase the fact that you’re doing some _very bad things_ , things I would _never_ want to be a part of.”

“Like _what?_ ”

“Uh…” She balks. “You’re still building a superweapon that destroys entire star systems in less than a minute, are you not?”

He sighs, looking away.

“Or how about this.”

She hops from the counter.

“Those troopers outside, where do they come from?” She points to the front of the ship.

He crosses his arms.

“They aren’t, by chance, snatched from their mother’s arms at birth, brainwashed and tortured so they grow up to become the kind of soldiers who beat a man for trying to find his wife, are they?”

“You don’t know what you’re _talking about_ ,” he spits.

“Oh, don’t I?” She shoots forward, halting just in front of him. “I actually know someone who used to be one of those troopers, Ben. I know _exactly_ where they come from and what the First Order does to them. It’s _child abuse_.”

“ _First of all_ —” He rises, pushing Rey back a step. “I’d say your source is a bit biased. _Secondly_ ,” he bites, “If you want tough soldiers, you have to _train them_ to be tough.”

“But there have to be limits, Ben!” Her arms fly out beside her. “You of all people should know that.” She points at him. “Do you really support doing the kinds of things Snoke did to you to other people?”

“Snoke…” He looks away, twitching. “The things he put me through…” He grits his teeth. “Made me who I am today, made me _strong_.”

“Ben…” She droops. “He also made you angry and _broken_.”

“That’s _part_ of becoming strong, Rey.” He sticks finger in her face. “You have to _break_ something before you can rebuild it. Anger, hatred, resentment— they’re all _excellent_ motivators to push you to your limits, find out what you’re made of. If Snoke hadn’t—”

“Ben, stop.” She closes her eyes, lifting a hand. “Just… Stop.”

She drops her hand with a sigh.

“I…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to do this right now.” She looks up at him. “Let’s just… take a break.”

“ _What?_ ” He jerks back.

“You heard me.” She nods. “Let’s take a break. Shelve this discussion for another day.”

“Rey…” He grunts. “You can’t just _take a break_ during a fight.”

“Sure, you can.” She shrugs. “There’s no reason why we have to work this out _right now_ , is there?”

“I-I…” He sputters.

“ _Exactly_.” She interrupts before he can finish. “So, why waste our time fighting about something we’ll never work out in a night, anyways? There are better things we can be doing.”

“Like _what?_ ” He leans in, bearing over her.

She looks at him evenly.

Then a smile creeps across her lips.

“Like this.”

Before he can react, she curls her fingers behind his neck, rising to meet him with a kiss.

She flattens to the ground, a glint in her eyes.

He gapes at her.

“You…” He scoffs lightly. “You want to go from fighting to…?”

She nods.

“That’s…” He blinks a couple times. “Ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She steps in close, pressing her body against his. “Or…?” She slides a palm up his chest. “Is it the _perfect_ thing to do at a time like this?”

He grunts.

And yet, even as his mind is doubtful, his hands circle her waist, seeming to move of their own accord.

“Is it not…?” She brushes aside a lock of hair, tucking it behind his ear. “The _best_ way to remind ourselves that even though we often disagree…” She cups his cheek. “Even though we see things differently, have different priorities, different expectations, we still—” She caresses his face with a thumb. “We still love each other.”

She looks up at him, eyes bright and full of purpose.

“And because of that…” Her hand drifts back. “No matter how difficult our differences seem to be…” She runs her fingers through his hair. “We know we’ll work them out. Because we have an _excellent_ motivation to do so.” She squints playfully.  

Kylo shakes his head.

But he can’t keep from smiling.

She grips his hair, pulling him down to meet her. 

They connect softly.

Rey pulls away, a twinkle in her eyes.

“So, what do you think?” She tilts her head. “Isn’t this better?”

His smile deepens.

“Yeah.” He leans in. “A lot better.”

They connect again, tenderly at first, almost like they’re testing the terrain, getting a sense of each other. They take note of the little things— the softness of their lips, the way the skin sticks, that distinctive sound between kisses.

He grips the flesh at her hips, pulling her close as their kisses grow hungrier, their mouths opening into one another, taking the other in like they’re _starving_.  

She wraps her arms around his neck as his hands travel up her back, feeling the curves of her body. He revels in the sensations— her scent, her warmth, her flesh, the wetness of her tongue.

Suddenly, he shifts, unlocking his lips and bringing them to her ear.  

“Stay with me,” he whispers, keeping her close. “Stay with me.”

“Ben…” Rey catches her breath. “Please. Not this again. Not right now.”

“No.” He pulls back. “I mean stay on the ship. With me. Just for the night.”

He breathes heavily, his eyes searching hers.

She looks at him, a bit surprised, uncertain how to answer.

“Come on, Rey.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face. “You can stay for just a night, can’t you? You don’t have anyone waiting for you, right?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “The team’s spread out all over the camp. Everyone wanted to get a good look at how the First Order treats the rescues.”

He lets out an exhale, dropping his forehead to hers with a flash of dread.

But he banishes the feeling quickly.

“Good.” He pulls back. “Then you can stay.”

“But…” She looks confused. “What about Sylas? I thought you gave him the bunks?”

“Rey.” He scoffs as he straightens. “This is _my_ command shuttle. You think I don’t have my own quarters?”

“Ah.” She raises her eyebrows briefly. “Of course.”

“Come on.” He descends, his hands sliding up her back. “Stay with me.” He kisses the soft skin behind her ear. “ _Please_.” His lips travel down.

She stiffens.

He pulls away, but stays close, keeping her in his arms.

She’s got that look in her eyes now, that vulnerable look, fear mixed with longing.

“I…” She catches her breath. “I’m…” She looks down, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear.

For a split second, he senses her fear rise, nearly reaching a panic.

But the next instant, it dissipates, like darkness when the light’s turned on, scattering to the corners.

She looks up at him, her eyes calm and steady.

“Ok,” she whispers.  

A smile creeps across his lips.

“Good.” He straightens. “Come on, then.” He offers his hand.

She takes a nervous breath, twisting to look behind her.

“You can get that later.” He nods to her cloak and pouch draped over the chair. “It’ll be safe here. No one else will be on the ship until morning.”

She turns back with a nod.

Then she takes his hand.

He leads her to the door, pressing a panel to open it.

They walk into the hall, and he immediately turns right, heading to the back of the shuttle.

She follows close behind, still holding his hand, as they make their way through the narrow annals of the ship.

Suddenly, he veers down a short corridor, a single door at the end of it.

He releases her hand, flipping open a keypad to enter a code.

The door whirs open.

He steps into a small room, only a few meters long, black panels lining the sides, an open closet in the back, a lounge seat beside it, the bed just a large cavity in the wall.  

“Make yourself at home.” He strides to the closet, already undoing his waistband.

Rey steps into the room, the door whirring shut behind her.

“This is…” She looks around. “Very nice. Very _sleek_.”

“It’s fine for a couple of days.” He pulls off his overcoat. “Any longer, and it starts to feel like you’re living in a crate.”

She grunts.

“I’ve seen worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” He untucks the long-sleeved shirt from his pants, then pulls it overhead.

“So, you don’t stay here much?”

“Hardly ever, now.” He takes a seat on the lounge, bringing a boot up to his knee. “Since I became Supreme Leader, I barely leave the dreadnaught.” He glances at Rey.

She’s still examining the room, running a hand along a panel on the wall like she’s trying to feel what it’s made of.  

“That sounds…” She widens her eyes. “Awful. I’ve gotten so used to moving around, seeing different places. I wouldn’t want to go back to that life, staying put all the time.”

He pulls off his boot and sets it to the side.

“Truth is…” He brings his other boot to his knee. “I get stir crazy, sometimes. I’ve liked these invasions. Gives me an excuse to leave the Supremacy for something other than a meeting.” He pulls off the boot and sets it next to the other one.

“Sounds like the bond is good for something other than seeing me.”

“Yes…” He rises, pulling off his undershirt. “It’s always a pleasure spending time in a basement or on my least favorite ship.” He tosses the shirt in the closet, then turns to Rey.

She immediately looks away, her cheeks growing pink.  

He suppresses a smirk.

Rey presses her lips together, making a point to focus on anything but him.

“So…” He takes a step towards her. “You sleep with your shoes on, do you?”

She looks up, knitting her eyebrows.  

“Oh!” She looks down at her feet. “No. Of course not.” She shakes her head, a bit flustered.

She glances around for a moment, like she’s trying to figure out where to go.

Finally, she just sits on the floor right where she is and begins pulling off her boots. 

He watches, amused, attuned to her inner rhythm, that fluttering nervousness in her chest.

Once she finishes removing her shoes, he walks over to her, offering his hand.

She takes it, a little tentatively, a faint blush still on her cheeks.  

She grabs her boots as he helps her from the floor.

“May I…?” She points to the closet.

“Of course.” He nods.

She scurries to the closet as he heads to the bed, stooping over to pull back the sheet and take a seat.

Rey places her boots carefully next to his, taking her time to line them up just so before straightening with an exhale.

Then she just stands there, facing the closet.

He observes her silently, sensing how nervous she is. It’s an excited kind of feeling but with a strong undertone of fear, like that moment just before jumping to hyperspace, thrill mixed with a split second of doubt, the dread you miscalculated something and are speeding straight into a star.

“Rey…” He says her name gently. “Are you ok?”

“Yes!” She whips around, a little too eagerly. “I was just… thinking.” She shifts a bit, wiping her palms on the side of her pants.

A few seconds pass but she doesn’t move, only stands, staring at the floor.

Kylo tilts his head.

“Are you…?” He starts slowly. “Going to stand there all night?” He squints at her, a glint in his eye.

She lets out a half laugh, scratching her head.

“No, no…” She bites her lip.

“Well, come on, then.” He scoots back on the bed, throwing his legs over the mattress. He pats the empty space beside him. 

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks a deep shade of red now.

Finally, she takes a step forward, making her way to the bed.

She takes a seat slowly, then shifts, stretching her legs out in front of her. She reclines, stiff as a board, her hands resting on her stomach, her eyes fixed directly above.

Kylo reaches to the head of the bed, dimming the lights. Then he props an elbow on the mattress, resting his head on his palm, watching her.

Rey doesn’t look at him, only continues staring straight ahead.

A few seconds pass in silence.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he assures teasingly.

At this, Rey laughs, relaxing a bit.

“I know, I know. I’m just…” She looks at him shyly. “Being silly.”   

His lips turn upward.

It gets him every time, the way she’s feeling right now— so tender, so vulnerable. He never ceases to marvel at it, how someone as strong-willed and confident as she is can suddenly become so sensitive, timid even.

He brings a hand to her face, grazing the soft skin.

She looks up at him, her muscles relaxing.

He gazes at her for a moment.

Then he descends, his lips seeking hers.

They connect softly, his touch conveying everything he wants her to feel— ease, comfort, warmth.

She lifts a hand, brushing back dark locks falling over his eyes.

They connect again, once, twice, three times, until their kisses blend into a gentle stream of warm, wet flesh connecting, each one leading seamlessly to the next.

For a moment, he pulls away, overcome by a sudden desire just to look at her, to study her features— her brown eyes, her full cheeks, her pink lips. He wants to soak it all in, burn the memory into his mind, this scene he’s been imagining for so long, having Rey in bed with him, having her all to himself, even if it’s just for a night.

She gazes up at him with a smile, stroking back his hair. She doesn’t feel nervous anymore, only at peace, as content to be with him as he is with her.

He descends, resuming their gentle stream of kisses.

He caresses her cheek with a thumb, then travels down, his fingers running along her neck, to her shoulder, then her arm.  

Suddenly, she hisses, wincing.

He jerks back, concerned.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, reaching over to trace the welt under her burn.

He sighs.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry.” He looks away with a flash of shame.

It’s the worst kind of irony, the fact that he spent all that time worrying about what the Ranc gang might do to her only to find that her _sole_ injury came from one of his _own damn troopers_.  

“Hey.” She lifts a hand to his cheek. “It’s nothing. Trust me. If it really bothered me, I would’ve healed it.”

“Why didn’t you?” He knits his eyebrows.

“Because.” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. When I promised I’d stay under the radar, I _meant_ it. And besides…” She smiles. “I don’t use the Force on _every_ injury I get. Sometimes I just like to watch my body heal itself. It’s a nice reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That we’re all capable of healing,” she answers softly. “We’re all born with that ability inside us, the ability to overcome, to put ourselves back together again.”  

He gazes down at her, transfixed, struck by this view of things, by her ability to find beauty even in brokenness.

And just like that, it hits him, that crushing wave, everything he feels for her surging through him all at once.

In the next instant, he captures her lips with his own, _ravenous_ , suddenly consumed by a desire to have her, all of her, _right now_.

He grabs her hip, gripping warm flesh under her shirt and pulling her to him, pouring everything he feels into hot, wet kisses.

His passion is catching, that beautiful, crushing weight surging from him right into her, inflaming them both with a powerful rush.   

She opens her mouth, her tongue seeking his as she wraps a leg around him, clinging to him.

They barely take the time to breath— hearts racing, bodies intertwining, hands grasping and grabbing.  

She grips his shoulder, pressing her chest against him, and his hand travels down, over her backside, to her thigh, gripping warm flesh covered only by threadbare pants.

His blood begins to rise, making him hotter, hungrier, that greedy kind of hunger that grows more insatiable the more its fed.  

He pulls her body into his, grinding against her, throbbing, breathless, _desperate_ for more of her, to feel skin on skin.  

His hand moves up, stopping at the top of her pants, his fingers slipping under them at the hip, seeking warm flesh. He continues up her back, over the smooth curves, taking the fabric of her shirt with him.

He could swear he feels her heart skip a beat as he moves higher, his hand running along her shoulders, the edge of her shirt tucked in the crook of his thumb.

She kisses him passionately, her arms wrapped around him, her fingers in his hair, but she’s starting to grow nervous, a fluttering in her chest.

He grips the flesh of her back, then follows the soft skin, traveling to the side, around the curve to the front—

“Wait!”

She suddenly pulls back, gasping for air.  

“Wait…” She unwraps her leg around him, and he withdraws his hand.

She tugs her shirt down, shifting away a bit, getting some distance.

“I’m sorry…” She covers her eyes with a palm. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She struggles to catch her breath.

He watches, his breath heavy, his blood still hot in his veins.

“It’s just…” Her palm slides away. She glances at him, then looks up, trying to gather her thoughts.

“I-I…” She stammers. “It’s not that I’m opposed to where that was going. I-I’m not.” She shakes her head. “It’s just… I’ve always…” She presses her lips together. “I’ve always wanted to do something else first.”

“Ok.” He nods slowly. “What?”

She blows out an exhale, rolling her head back on the pillow.

“You…” She lets out a half-laugh. “You’ll think this is stupid.”

“Try me.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering at her cheek.

“It’s just that…” She shifts on the bed, rolling on her side to face him. “I’ve actually…” She looks away, biting her lip. “I’ve actually never… slept with someone before.” She glances at him. “Not just, you know…” She laughs a little. “But also in the sense of just sharing a bed with someone, just sleeping together. And I was wondering…” She squints, almost like she’s bracing herself. “If it’s ok if we did that first, if we just… just slept.” She gulps. “T-together?”

He lets out a slow, measured breath, trying to expel some of the heat from his body.

He can’t help but sink with disappointment, that insatiable hunger still burning, licking like flames inside him.

But she’s got that look in her eyes now, that vulnerable look.

And he feels his ardor cool, just a little.

“Sure.” He finally nods. “We can do that.”

She lets out an exhale, relaxing.

“Oh, good.” She gives him a smile. “Thank you…” She takes a breath. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.” He strokes her cheek with a thumb.

“So…” She purses her lips. “How…? How do you want to do this? Do we just, uh…?”

“Here.” He twists to grab a pillow beside him. “Come on.” He gestures for her to sit up.

She rises a bit and he stacks the pillow on top of the other one, moving both to the center of the bed.

“Now…” He reaches out, extending an arm across her body. “Just slide back, right here.” He grips her hip and pulls her towards him, shifting her gently on her side, her back to him. “And relax.” He places a hand on her head, guiding her to the pillows.

She follows his direction, resting her head and curling her knees into her chest.

He grabs the sheet and throws it over them, then slides down the bed, reclining on his side. He slips an arm under Rey, wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her close.

She scoots back against him, a little stiff.

“Relax,” he whispers in her ear, rubbing her forearm. “Relax, relax.” He covers her hand with his, moving it to her chest and tightening his hold.

He feels her muscles go slack, bit by bit, until she’s completely at rest.

“Good.” He lays his head on the pillows, nuzzling the hair next to her ear. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” She nods.

“Are you warm?”

“Yes, very warm.” She wiggles against him, drawing herself into his body.

“Good.” He kisses her cheek. “Now all you have to do is just go to sleep.” He rubs a hand up and down her arm, careful to avoid her injury.

She lets out a long sigh, closing her eyes, a smile on her lips.

He takes a deep breath, closing his own eyes, the softness of her hair tickling his lips.

He takes another breath, trying to cool down, calm the flow of blood in his veins— no easy task with Rey in his arms, her body pressed against his.

But with each breath, the fire dies down, just a little, until it’s something he can manage, more of a low roar than an all-consuming blaze.

He focuses on relaxing his muscles, letting them sink into the mattress. He remains perfectly still except for his hand covering hers, his thumb stroking her gently.

He breathes deeply and purposefully, Rey’s back moving with his chest as it expands and contracts in a steady rhythm. 

Finally, he opens his eyes, wanting to take in the scene, what she looks like in his arms, such a perfect fit, like she was made for him.

He instantly freezes.

She’s… crying.

Fat tears roll down her cheeks, trickling over her lips and down her neck. She’s hardly moving or making a sound, just crying softly.

But… she’s not sad. Just the opposite. She feels perfectly content, a warm glow thrumming inside her.

He knits his eyebrows, trying to work out what he’s seeing and feeling, what it means.

And that’s when the realization hits.

More like the memory.

He remembers the first time they met, what he saw when he entered her mind on Starkiller. He remembers the images, the emotions flashing by— thousands of sleepless nights, alone in an old piece of junk, desperately yearning for family, for love, or just the touch of another human being, the simplest show of affection.

All cruelly out of reach.

And his heart swells with compassion just as it did then.

He lifts a hand to her cheek, brushing away her tears.

She squeezes her eyes shut, parting her lips for an uneven breath.

He tightens his hold on her, surrounding her in his warmth.

She tucks her chin, surrendering to his embrace, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

He watches silently, an ache deep in his chest, at once agonizing and beautiful, the strange comfort that comes from sharing another’s pain.

He can’t help but think back, try to remember the last time he shared a bed with someone.

It’s been years. Well over a decade.

He closes his eyes, giving himself over to the peace of human connection, the feeling of utter closeness— the love, the trust, the belonging.

He keeps his eyes closed until he hears her breath change, that distinctive shift to slow and steady inhales that comes with sleep.

He lifts his lids slowly, careful of his movements as he adjusts to get a better view.

Her cheeks are a little wet, but she looks content, her face serene, her eyes closed, her lashes sweeping gently under them.

He studies her features in the dim light— every curve, every slope, every angle. He takes note of the little things, searching for something he might not have noticed before, something to add to his mental image of her.

His gaze drifts down, from her face to her neck, her shoulder, her arm. He moves a hand, tracing the welt under her burn.

He sets his jaw.

It shouldn’t be too hard to find that trooper.

He’ll just review the data on her tracker, which part of the camp she was in, find out which unit was assigned to that section. He’ll go the training room the next time they’re due for exercises, question them, identify the guilty party. 

Then he’ll show him what it’s like to be on the angry end of an electric baton.

 _Yes_ , he’ll need to make some changes, institute some new rules about how the troopers conduct themselves with the slaves after an invasion.

For a moment, he darkens.

Hux will kick and thrash against it, of course, claim he’s making the troops soft.

He sucks in a breath.

But soon, he lets it go, expelling it from his body in a measured stream.

He looks down at Rey asleep in his arms and returns his focus to the sight of her, the feeling of her warm body against his.

And just like that, all his frustrations and worries melt away.

He tightens his hold and she moans softly, but doesn’t wake, only tucks her chin a little.

He watches with a faint smile, studying her for just a little longer.

Finally, he relaxes on the pillow, burying his lips in her hair. He keeps his eyes open, observing what he can from this angle, her smooth skin, the soft curve of her jaw.

Before long, his eyelids begin to droop, becoming heavy.

Then without realizing it, he drifts off, slipping into a deep, satisfying slumber, the kind that heals the soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be February 16th. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading!
> 
> Seriously, I really appreciate the encouragement from you guys. It means a lot and makes all the difference when things get busy and I start to feel overwhelmed. You are the BEST!


	33. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren attempts to move forward but finds it difficult to escape the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m introducing another O.C. in this chapter. I imagine Michael B. Jordan playing this character, a.k.a Killmonger from Black Panther.

A BB-9 unit rolls swiftly down the hall of the dreadnaught, its squared dome of a head tilted back, its photoreceptor stuck high in the air.

One might say it almost looks smug.

It moves in a straight line, not bothering to dodge the oncoming traffic.

A couple of officers nearly trip over the droid, sidestepping it just in time. One halts, glaring down with a scowl.

But the droid doesn’t seem to notice. It simply moves forward, only cursorily noting the inferiority of human observation.

It picks up its pace as it nears the end of the hall, preparing for a sharp turn to the right.

But just as it turns, it’s met by a swift kick directly to its round body.

It flies across the hall, barely regaining balance before crashing into the wall.

It sputters in beeps and whirs, searching for the offending boot, ready to meet it with angry burst of curses.   

But it shrinks the moment it identifies the guilty party.

A masked Kylo Ren continues down the hall without so much as a backward glance.

He doesn’t notice the droid. He doesn’t notice the people passing by, bowing as they do. He doesn’t even notice the commotion in the medical bay, equipment crashing to the floor as one of the patients raves and thrashes about.

His mind is too preoccupied, _fixed_ on his destination, on the meeting he’s been dreading all damn day.

He tries to remain even, adopt an inward calm.

But he can’t smother that simmering in his gut, fear mixed with uncertainty and _deep_ reluctance.

He squares his shoulders, charging on with his signature stride.  

He tries to direct his thoughts elsewhere, _anywhere_.

He thinks back to the meeting of generals, pictures the them gathered around the table. He smirks as he remembers Hux twitching, that low burning resentment as Petrov _raved_ about Kaddak and the usefulness of the slaves. He swells as he recalls Ailen’s report, the First Order’s reputation continuing its upward climb, the rippling effects on their recruitment and negotiations.  

Then he remembers the gaping faces, the wave of shock when he ordered Voigt to submit a list of potentials to lead a raid on slave markets in the Core Worlds.

And he tenses, turning the corner sharply.

He searches his mind for something else to focus on— the ongoing problems with the Corellian government, Sylas and the pirates on Borosk.

But he runs into the same damn wall every time.

He sucks in a breath, clenching his fists.

It’s _maddening_ , this slow, miserable slog.

 _Every attempt_ at reform, at evolution, at trying to remold the First Order into what it _must become_ gets met with the same push back, the same outdated way of thinking.

It’s not just Hux.

It’s all the people who think like him, wanting to solve every problem like they’re still at war, dragging him backwards even as he forges ahead. They can’t see, can’t understand why they need to deal with the Corellians through diplomacy rather than firepower, why they need to work _with_ the pirates on Borosk rather blasting them to pieces and starting a damn rebellion.

To them, the idea of devoting resources to stopping slavery is _unfathomable_.

Why would they?

It doesn’t strengthen their armies. It doesn’t advance their weapons technology. It doesn’t strike fear into the hearts of those who would defy the First Order.

So why would they do it?

To them, there’s no reason, no reason at all…

He barrels down a short staircase, his mind drifting to the unpleasant task that lies ahead.

He twitches, that dread returning like bile.  

He tries to redirect his focus to the surroundings but there isn’t much to see. He’s in a narrow hall now, a sparsely populated area of the dreadnought. There isn’t a soul in sight except for a single figure ambling his way, pushing along a hoverlift stacked high with supplies.

Kylo slows as the figure gets closer.

He vaguely recognizes the man. Maybe from one of his rounds to the lower ranks…?

Kylo studies him as he approaches, the man glancing up when he’s just a few feet away.

And that’s when the memory hits, where he’s seen him before.

Kylo slows to a stop, lifting his hands to unlick his mask and bring it overhead.

The man instantly halts, dropping his hands from the hoverlift and snapping to attention.

Kylo tucks the mask in the crook of his arm, eying him coolly.

“You…” He points at him. “Tried out to be one of my cadets.”

The man nods.

 _That’s right_. He remembers now, the skinny one with a knack for evasion and _nasty_ with a vibro-axe.

He didn’t make the final cut. But he certainly left an impression…

Kylo tilts his head.

“General Petrov’s putting together his own unit now, just like mine, did you know that?”

The man just stares, not sure what to say.

“Tryouts are at the end of the week.” He dips his chin. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“I-I…” the man sputters.

“You should.” Kylo nods at him. “He’ll need someone like you, someone who can dodge as well as he attacks.”

The man gapes.

“Go.” Kylo leans in. “Show him what you can do with an axe.” He squints with a glimmer.

Then he moves on, quickly resuming his signature stride.

He doesn’t look back.

But he can feel the man’s eyes on him, sense his emotions, a mixture of pride and shock.

A smile teases Kylo’s lips.

He doesn’t regret it, taking on the training unit as his own, transforming them into _his_ cadets.

How could he? Not after they put _half_ of Hux’s cadets to shame.

Kylo smirks.

No, they’re much too good just to be a training unit. And they’ve demonstrated something important, something the people in this organization needed to see.

They’ve always been _so intent_ that their martial forces be programmed from birth, raised and trained under the auspices of the First Order.

But does that really produce the best soldiers? Or just the best automatons, men who never question, never innovate, only follow orders?

It’s something to consider. He can’t do much now without Hux pitching _a fit_. But with Petrov following suit, creating his own unit of untrained brawlers from the lower ranks, the seed has been planted. And in time, it will grow…

For now, he’ll just focus on training his own men, a case study of sorts. It’s felt _good_ to build something new, something different. There’s no way they can know it, but his approach to training them is highly irregular. It’s an experimental instruction style, less of a firm grip, more of a guiding hand. He encourages individuality, gives them a lot of freedom— allows them to make mistakes, learn hard lessons, _grow_.

It’s like nothing he’s ever done before. Yet he’s taken to it so easily, _enjoys_ it even. He tends to sleep better on the nights he trains with them. It’s not just the physical exertion. It’s something else, something he can’t quite put his finger on.

But he can _feel_ it.

It feels like…

He furrows his eyebrows, searching for the right word. One lurks at the corners, trying to push its way through.

But he grows cold before he can fully articulate it.

Kylo slows, sensing the familiar presence ahead.

His throat tightens. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to purge his body of its disquiet. He needs to become even, detached, siphon off part of his mind and _bury it_.

It’s been so long since he’s been in a meeting like this, one where he needs to be _just_ as careful about what he thinks and feels as what he says and does.

He halts in front of a large blast door at the end of the hall. He focuses on his breath, letting each one bring him closer to where he needs to be— a void, drained of all warmth, all emotion.

He glances down, turning the face of his mask upward. He stares at it for a moment.

Then he tucks it in the crook of his arm.

He’s wearing a different mask now. An inward one.

Kylo lifts a hand, pressing a panel by the door.

He steps forward the moment it opens, entering a narrow room, sparsely furnished, a long, rectangular table in the center and a console lining the back wall. It’s dim, just a low light emanating from the edges of the ceiling.

There’s a thin layer of dust on the table, an unusual sight in a First Order dreadnaught. 

But this is a remote part of the ship.

By intention. This meeting isn’t even on his schedule…

Aeneas stands facing the console, his hands clasped loosely behind him. He turns when hears the door.  

It’s been over a year since Kylo’s seen him, yet he doesn’t look much different. His hair’s grown out some, but his face is the same— long and angled, stubble along the chin, black eyes with a hint of fire, dark skin reflecting the glow of the room.  

He studies Kylo evenly.

Then he lowers, taking a knee.

“Master.” He bows his head. 

Kylo stops just in front of him, observing him coolly.

Then he continues to the head of the table.

Aeneas remains on the floor, careful to remain absolutely still.

Kylo sets his mask down, keeping his back to the man. He stands silently for a minute.

“I trust you realize…” He finally speaks, pulling out a chair. “You’re jeopardizing your _entire mission_ just by being here.” He takes a seat.

“Yes, master.” Aeneas rises, turning to face him. “But I was careful. Came in with a supply transport. Took a service elevator here. No one saw me. No one that matters.” He juts his chin up.

“You better hope so.”

Kylo sits back, dark eyes cutting.

Aeneas hardens.

“So, what’s so damned important that you needed to meet with me _in person_?” Kylo demands. “This better be good.”

Aeneas tsks.

“It’s not good.” He steps forward. “But it _definitely_ calls for an in-person meeting.” He pulls out a chair, taking a seat.

Aeneas straightens, resting his hands in his lap. For a moment, he just stares.

“ _Spit it out_ ,” Kylo barks.  

Aeneas flinches.

Then, he scoots forward.

“A week ago, J’ia stopped submitting her reports.” His face remains blank. “And yesterday…” He narrows his eyes. “She took out her tracker.”

Kylo instantly darkens.

“Why am I just hearing about this _now?_ I should have gotten a code 2 from you _the moment_ it happened.”

“But this isn’t just some code 2.” Aeneas leans in. “This is _treason_.” He taps the table. “From one of the _Knights_ , one of _our own_ , not to mention our _sole_ Resistance spy. She could be spilling her guts to them _right now_.”

Kylo sucks in a breath.

“ _And what_ …” His tone is clipped. “Makes you think she’s defected?”

“Why the hell else would she take out her tracker?” Aeneas looks him up and down. “And haven’t you been reading her reports?”

“I have the highlights sent to me,” Kylo says flatly.  

Aeneas grunts.

“Well…” He drips with contempt. “I’ve been reading them _closely_. And I think she’s been feeding us false information. Her figures on Resistance numbers don’t match the rest of our intel. And she’s misidentified their donors _more than once_.”

Kylo looks away.

He’d suspected as much. He just hoped he was wrong…  

He looks back to Aeneas and is met with sharp eyes, reading him.

“I’ll take care of it.” Kylo sits back coolly.

Aeneas narrows his eyes.

“How?”

“You know how.” Kylo’s gaze is dead even.

Aeneas stares for a moment.

Then he nods.

“Of course.” He doesn’t blink. “But you’re a busy man. So, why not give the job to one of us? Alyse would be perfect for it.”

“ _Oh yes_ …” Kylo sneers. “That’s _exactly_ what the First Order needs right now, for a member of the Resistance to be gutted and strung up for the whole damn galaxy to see.”

Aeneas sighs.

“Silo, then.” He rests a forearm on the table. “He’s got a lighter touch. He’ll make it look like an accident.”

Kylo looks up like he’s considering this.

“ _Or…_ ” Aeneas studies him closely. “We could approach this as an opportunity.”

“What do you mean?” Kylo senses his eagerness.

“If her reports are to be believed….” Aeneas leans in. “J’ia is damn close with that girl, the Force-sensitive one. What are they calling her now? The Chainbreaker?”

Kylo grows cold.

“So maybe…” He smirks. “It’s time for a little reunion.” Aeneas taps the mask on the table. “Get the crew together. Go on a mission. For old time’s sake.” He squints, a little fire in his eyes.

Kylo stares, fighting to control his emotions.

It’s all he can do not to gulp.

“You’re telling me…” Kylo looks down. “That you’d have _all_ of the Knights jeopardize their covers so we can chase down _one_ wayward Knight and _one_ untrained girl.”

“ _That girl_ killed Snoke!” Aeneas shoots out of his chair. “ _She’s_ the reason the Resistance is exploding right now. She’s their _star_. Without her, they’d be _nothing_. Don’t you think it’s _worth it_ to get rid of her?”

Kylo just stares, his face a blank.

“I think…” He starts in a measured tone. “That you are a _spy_ now, and you need to _act like one_.” He leans forward. “The First Order _must_ consolidate its power and to do that, people like _you_ need to stay put and do your _damn job_.”

“But _that girl_ …” Aeneas grits his teeth. “Is our _single greatest threat_. And now that she’s got J’ia on her side, with all the things she knows about the First Order?”

“We don’t know _whose_ side J’ia is on or _what_ she’s told anyone.”

“If I were you—”

“But you’re _not_ me.” Kylo shoots forward. “This is _my_ problem, _not_ yours. _I_ will deal with J’ia, and _I_ will deal with the girl.”

“Sure, you will.” Aeneas grunts. “Like you dealt with her on Starkiller.”

In an instant, Aeneas flies into the wall with a crack. He collapses to the floor, groaning.

“ _Get up_.”

Kylo grits his teeth, rising from his chair and reaching through the Force to lift Aeneas by the throat. He pulls him up high until his feet dangle above the ground.  

“You’ve been gone a long time.” His voice is eerily calm. “It seems you’ve forgotten your place.” He tightens his invisible grip. “Let me remind you.”

Aeneas claws at his neck, desperate for air.

“ _I_ am the master. _You_ are the underling. _I_ give the orders. _You_ follow them. You do _what_ I tell you, _when_ I tell you, and you _never_ question me. Do you understand?”

Aeneas croaks, trying to respond.

Kylo keeps him in the air a moment longer.

Then he releases him, watching as he crashes to the floor.

Aeneas gasps for air, rolling over to push himself up. He rises to his knees, turning to face Kylo. He plants one foot on the ground, bowing.

“Yes…” He struggles to catch his breath. “Master.”

Kylo stares at the Knight, sensing his emotions— the anger, the resentment, the utter demoralization.

And he sinks inwardly with shame.

Aeneas looks up, knitting his eyebrows.

Kylo sucks in a breath, trying to squelch the feeling.

But it lingers.

Kylo turns to face the console, his jaw twitching.

“I want you…” He starts slowly. “To get back on mission and _stay there_. And if you ever leave again without my _explicit_ permission…” He pauses. “I will get _rid_ of you, just like I got rid of Erik and I’ll get rid of J’ia.”

Kylo closes his eyes.

“Go,” he commands. “Now.”

Aeneas rises.

But he doesn’t go.

He just stands there.

Kylo can feel his eyes on him, feel the tendrils of his Force senses reaching out.

He tries to harden, revert to an emotionless calm.

Aeneas steps forward, piquing with a strange kind of interest. Kylo sees him in his mind, those sharp black eyes— piercing, probing.

For a minute, both men stand perfectly still.

Then Aeneas steps closer, so close that Kylo can feel his breath on his neck. He stands silently behind him.

“You’re different.”

The Knight’s tone is even.

But Kylo senses the menace under it.

Aeneas lingers for a moment.

Then he turns, his boots clicking against the floor as he strides away.

Kylo hears the door whir open and shut behind him. He listens as the footsteps recede, the Knight’s presence drifting further and further until it disappears completely.

Then he lets out a giant exhale, dropping his façade.

He trembles as he fumbles with his gloves, pulling them off and casting them on the table. He tugs at his collar, like its suddenly too tight, finding it difficult to take a full breath.

He sinks into the chair, concentrating on inhales and exhales.

But he can’t seem to get air all the way into his lungs.

He flattens a palm under his ribs, fighting to pull the oxygen down.

After a minute, he gives up, propping his elbows on the table and burying his face in his palms.

He feels frayed, on edge, like he’s falling apart piece by piece, but can’t stop it, only watch as he’s gradually ripped to shreds.

He sits back, running his fingers through his hair.

It’s hard to say exactly what terrifies him most. There are so many horrors to choose from…

There’s this news about J’ia, everything she knows about the First Order, everything she could be telling the Resistance.

Yet somehow Kylo’s _much more_ disturbed by what she could be telling Rey about him— his past, all the things he’s done…

He shudders.

His only comfort is what he knows about J’ia.

She was always like Erik… Never quite cut out for this. She tried to hide it from him, but he felt it anyway, her true nature surfacing here and there.

The guilt. The shame. The desperate desire to be somewhere else, someone else.

Something tells him J’ia hasn’t said a _word_ to anyone in the Resistance, and she won’t unless she feels like she has to.

Because she can’t reveal what she knows about him without revealing what she’s done as well.

No.

J’ia will keep quiet. She’ll stay hidden for as long as she can. Who knows? Maybe she’s abandoned her post entirely, abandoned the Resistance, moved on to build a new life for herself, like Erik did.

Kylo’s lips turn upward at the thought.

He relaxes a little, his breath evening.

But he darkens when his mind drifts to Aeneas, the last thing he said before he left.

And a cold fear cuts him right through the bone.

He shifts forward, resting his forearms on the table, boring holes into the surface.

Aeneas will be a problem. He’s always known that. It’s just… he’d hoped it would be later rather than sooner.

Of course, he’s already a problem. All the Knights are.

It’s a problem he’s avoided, pushing it to the side to focus on more pressing matters.

But he’s reminded of it from time to time.

Like when he hears about an enemy of the First Order disappearing under mysterious circumstances.

Or when some disaster befalls a corporation that’s been pushing against their negotiations.

Or when a powerful figure openly criticizing his leadership finds their loved ones meet untimely ends, one by one, until they learn to keep quiet.

Kylo closes his eyes.

He knows who’s behind these things. They’re being more subtle about it than they used to be, but they’re still doing exactly what they were trained to do— seeing to the will of the First Order _by any means necessary_. And if they tend to do so by resorting to the most extreme and brutal methods…

It’s because they learned it from him.

Kylo cringes, burying his face in a palm.

He’s thought about calling them in, keeping them close, if only to contain their destructive impulses.

But that would create a new problem.

He drags his palm over his face, stopping at the jaw.

He needs to be careful right now. _Very_ careful.

The First Order is in a delicate stage of development. He’s been making so many changes, dealing with so much push back from warmongers like Hux. If he were to bring the Knights back into the fold, the very _embodiment_ of their past— the brutality, the ruthlessness, the destruction…?

No. He can’t do that.

He needs to keep them scattered and separated, far from the core of the First Order.

He can’t have them here, together, watching as the organization they helped build becomes something new, something they don’t recognize.

“You’re different.”

The words linger in Kylo’s mind.

They seem so simple, so innocent.

But he knows _exactly_ what they mean.  

Aeneas has always been the strongest of the Knights. And now that he thinks he’s sensed _weakness_ in his master…?

Suddenly, the room seems to darken, a shadow creeping over it.  

Kylo drops his hand, staring blankly across the table.

He thinks about Aeneas.  

He thinks about J’ia.

He thinks about Hux.

He thinks about all the people who follow his lead, pissing and moaning about _every_ damn change he makes. 

And all at once, it rushes upon him, how tenuous his position is, how close he could be to losing it all…

He spirals further and further into a torrent doubt and fear until the emotions consume him. He begins to despair, gripped by the morbid certainty that he’s on the verge of losing _everything_ he cares about, everything he’s worked so hard to build…

He hangs his head.

But the next instant, he snaps up.

He feels the change the moment it hits, that warmth welling in his core.

His first instinct is to feel relief, eager for the refuge of her presence.  

But then he recalls J’ia and her defection.

And even as the warmth rises, a pang of coldness grates against it.

He looks down, hardening, trying to banish the dread. 

He waits, ready to get it over with, to know for certain if J’ia has revealed herself, revealed the darkest secrets of his past.

He grips the edge of the chair until the warmth dissipates. 

Then he takes a deep breath, reaching out through the Force.

He exhales as the emotions wash over him— the excitement, the anticipation.

He looks up, straightening, all the more grateful to see her.

Rey stands at the other end of the room, tilting her head. It’s difficult to make out her expression in the dim light, but he can sense the shift, excitement quickly falling to concern.

“Ben…?” She makes her way around the table. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He rises.

Rey stops dead in her tracks.

“ _Really?_ ” She shoots him a look. “Why do you even bother?”

He sighs, looking away.  

“You feel _awful_ , like someone just died.” She seizes with a flash of panic. “Is Sylas ok?”

“Sylas is fine,” he assures her. “Everything’s fine.” He retakes his seat.

“No, it’s not.” She moves towards him. “I haven’t felt you like this since—”

She catches herself.

But Kylo can guess where she was going. Probably something about his father…

“Come on, Ben.” She stops just next to him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

His jaw hardens.

At first, he does nothing, only stares across the table.

He senses her eyes on him, senses her concern…

Then he feels her. She reaches out, brushing back a lock of his hair.

And he lets out a heavy sigh.

He turns in his chair, pulling at her hips to bring her to him, encircling her in a tight embrace.

He closes his eyes, surrendering to her warmth as she wraps her arms around him. He doesn’t want to say or do _anything_ , just lose himself in her, lose all sense of time and place until it feels like it’s just them, floating out in a void.

So that’s exactly what he does. He tightens his hold as she strokes his hair with one hand and rubs his back with the other.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She’s communicating in a different language now, a tactile one. Every touch, every movement, the way her fingers weave gently through his hair, the way her palm slides along the muscles of his back— it all speaks words of comfort, words of peace.

It’s such a gift, this refuge, the ability to withdraw from everything and reset himself. He wishes for it all the time, to have her nearby, to escape into her embrace whenever he wants.

He’s not sure how much time passes as they stay like this, him sitting and her standing, their arms wrapped around each other.

“You know…” Rey speaks softly, still stroking his hair. “It’s been a while since we shared what we were thinking about when the bond brings us together.”

He instantly groans.

“Ben.” She moves a hand to the front of his shoulder, pushing gently.

He resists.

“ _Ben_.” She sounds firmer now. “ _Clearly_ , you were just thinking about something that upsets you, and I want to know what it is.” She pushes harder.

He finally loosens his hold. 

She steps back, his hands sliding to her hips.

“Rey.” He sighs, looking to the side and not at her. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Too bad, because I do.”

He drops his hands, crossing his arms. He looks up, black eyes cold.

She grunts.

“Don’t be _petulant_ ,” she bites. “Last time the subject came up, it was _you_ wanting to know what I was thinking about and I gave in, didn’t I?” She raises an eyebrow.

He just stares blankly.

She stares straight back.

After a few seconds, she crosses her arms.

“Well…” She tsks. “I suppose if you won’t _tell_ me…” She closes her eyes.

A moment later, he feels invisible fingers reaching into his mind, searching.

“ _REY!_ ” He shoots out of his chair. “ _Get out_ _of my head!_ ”

“Ben.” She pushes out an exhale. “You _have got_ to learn to talk about things, especially things that trouble you.”

He growls, turning away.

“What’s the _point?_ ” He spits. “It doesn’t change anything, doesn’t make anything better.”

“It changes you.”

“ _What?_ ” He turns back, knitting his eyebrows.

“When you share something with someone, you have to process it.” She shrugs. “You have to think more deeply just to articulate it. And when you do, you learn things, things you might not have realized before. Then, the person you share it with might notice something new, something you didn’t see. Then you think about _that_ , and before you know it, you’re thinking about the whole problem differently. You _change_.” She widens her eyes.

He twitches, looking down.

“Ben, stop fighting this.” She walks up to him. “You know it’ll be good for you.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Come on.” She turns, motioning for him to follow. “It’ll come easier than you think. The hardest part is getting started.” She takes a seat on the floor near the corner. “Come on.” She pats the space beside her.

He grunts.

“Rey…” He steps forward. “You do realize there are chairs.” He gestures to the table.

“I’d rather sit here, thanks.” She crosses her legs. “I like it down here. Gives me a new perspective. Maybe you should try it.” She smiles up at him.

He shakes his head.

But a second later, he moves to towards her. He turns his back to the corner, pausing with a sigh.

Then he sinks to the floor.

He shifts on the hard surface, leaning against the wall and planting his boots in front of him.

“ _Perfect._ ” Rey scoots forward, then slides herself between his legs, planting her feet like his and resting back on his chest. Now….” She reaches for his arm, draping it around her. “Tell me your troubles.” She reaches for the other one.

He sighs.

But he can’t help smiling.

He tightens his arms, pulling her in close. She wiggles against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

For a minute, they just sit quietly together, tucked in a corner in the back of the room.

“So…” Rey starts slowly. “Why are you in this room today?”

“I…” He sighs. “Had a meeting. With someone I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Who?”

“One…” He swallows. “One of the Knights.”

“ _Really?_ ” She perks up.

“Yes.”

A few seconds pass.

“And…?”

He senses her impatience.

“It didn’t go well.” His jaw hardens.

“Did you get into an argument?”

“Kind of.”

Rey’s shoulders drop.

“Ok.” Her impatience grows. “So, what happened?”

“He…” Kylo tsks. “Had some bad news.”

Silence.

Then more silence.

Then more.

Rey pushes out an exhale.

“And what was the news?”

She’s getting frustrated now.

Kylo furrows his eyebrows, searching for what to tell her.

And that cold fear pierces him once more.

At first, he fights against it, desperately trying to remain calm.

But soon, he lets go, stops struggling against his emotions and allows them to run freely, unchecked, through his mind and his body.

It’s no use trying to conceal them from her. And if he continues fighting, she might grow suspicious, wonder what he’s trying to hide.

“One…” He straightens. “One of the Knights has gone off the grid, abandoned her post. We don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. And… I have to deal with that.”

Her interest piques.

“And how do you deal with that?”

He closes his eyes.

“You know how,” he answers quietly.

He remains still, attuned to her inner rhythm.

But she doesn’t react how he expected.

She doesn’t grow dark or cold. If anything, she’s even _more_ interested now, simmering with strange kind of eagerness.

“So, why did the meeting end poorly?”

He says nothing, just stares straight ahead.

“Let me guess.” Rey breaks the silence. “He wanted to kill her. And you…” She pauses. “Wouldn’t say one way or the other.”

He twitches.

“Not exactly.”

“So, what then?” She turns her head.

He sighs, resting his head back on the wall. He stares at the ceiling, the low light emanating from the sides.   

Rey waits, impatient but silent, giving him time to process.

 “The defected Knight…” He starts slowly. “Isn’t the real reason why he was here.” He takes a breath. “She was just an excuse, an opportunity to see me in person.”

She knits her eyebrows.

“So… why was he really here?”

Kylo tenses.

“To test me.”

“Test you?” Rey twists around, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He glances down.

“How?”

“It’s…” He bobs his head. “It’s complicated.” He sits up, adjusting his arms around her.

“Then explain it to me.”

He blows out a puff of air.

Then he scoots back, taking Rey with him, keeping her close. He stares into nothing, searching his mind for where to begin.

“For dark siders…” He looks to the ceiling. “Let’s just say…” He grunts. “What happened to Snoke isn’t exactly unprecedented.”

“You mean for an apprentice to kill a master?”

“Yes.” He nods. “It’s actually pretty common.”

“But…?” She squints. “ _Why?_ ”

“It’s just part of the philosophy, Rey. The nature of the relationship.”

“That’s…” She flits her head. “Stupid. And makes zero sense.”

“I didn’t say it made sense.” He raises his eyebrows. “It’s just part of the culture, the dogma. It’s the way dark-siders think about power, a kind of an iron sharpens iron idea.”

“So, you sharpen each other by trying to destroy each other?” This sounds more like a criticism than a question.

“Not exactly.” He twitches. “Rey, I told you this was complicated.”

“Well, then help me understand.” She shifts against him. “What’s the philosophy? Why does the apprentice want to kill the master?”

“ _Because_ ,” he starts with authority. “The master has what the apprentice wants— Power. And the more powerful the master becomes, the more the apprentice wants what he has. It motivates apprentice to become stronger and stronger in the hopes that one day his strength will surpass the master’s. That’s why he’s always testing for weaknesses, an opportunity to ascend. It’s why—”

“But if that’s the case,” Rey interrupts. “Why would the master want to train the apprentice at all? Wouldn’t it be better to keep him weak?”

“ _No._ ” Kylo turns his head. “The apprentice is a reflection of the master’s power. He _wants_ the apprentice to grow strong, not only to represent his power but to motivate him to _never_ get complacent, _never_ stop the quest for more power. As the apprentice grows stronger, the master must grow stronger still. And above all, he must never show weakness.”

“I guess…” Rey sighs. “That makes sense in a way. Though it sounds like an awful way to live, always paranoid that the person closest to you will become your enemy.”

Kylo grunts but says nothing.

“And…” She continues softly. “I think there are better ways for people to strengthen one another.”

“Maybe.” He tilts his head. “There are…” He tenses. “Definitely flaws in the philosophy.”   

“Like…?”

“Like the fact that the master often kills the apprentice just before he grows powerful enough to surpass him.”

Rey bows her head.

“Yes, that’s certainly a flaw.”

He clenches his jaw.

For a minute, neither of them say a word, only sit in silence.

“So…” Rey starts carefully. “The Knight you met with today. Does…” She purses her lips. “Does he know you’re the one who killed Snoke?”

“He… suspects. But knows nothing for sure.”

“And you think…” She pauses. “That he wants to kill you?”

Kylo scoffs, loosening his arms around her.

“Aeneas has wanted to kill me for a _long_ time.” He pushes a palm on the floor, shifting. “He’s just never had an opportunity to do it.”

She scoots forward a little, repositioning, stretching one leg out and curling the other into her chest.

He reaches for her hips, pulling her back against him, then wrapping an arm around her.

“And this Aeneas…” She rests back. “Was here today because he was testing for weaknesses?”

“Yes.” He slides a hand across her stomach.

“Did he… find one?”

Kylo darkens.

“He thinks he did.” He stares straight ahead, a heavy weight in his gut.

He feels that same heaviness in Rey, like his emotions are bleeding from him into her. 

She slips a hand over his at her stomach, weaving fingers between his.

“Why?”

He sinks.

For a moment, he just concentrates on her, the warmth at his chest, her thumb stroking his.

“Because…” His throat tightens. “He wanted to get the Knights together again. Go after the one who defected. Eliminate her. Then…” He gulps. “Go after you.”

Rey freezes.

Her body goes stiff, an icy coldness piercing her heart like a dagger.

It’s a familiar feeling. The bite of fear. 

“And you told him no?” She whispers.

“I told him no.” He bows, burying his lips in her hair.

She exhales, but the coldness lingers, a chill in the bones.

He squeezes her hand, tightening his hold.

Neither of them say a word, only melt into the other’s emotions, fear blending with the desire to comfort, to protect.

Kylo closes his eyes.

He hates the way she feels right now.

But he understands it.

He can’t help but wonder exactly how much she knows about the Knights, about his past, the things they’ve done… She was so far away from it all, out in the middle of nowhere.

Clearly, she knows enough to be terrified by the idea of them coming for her.

Rightly so.

She breathes deeply, trying to remain calm.

“Do you…” She swallows. “Think he’ll go rogue?”

He takes a deep breath.

“No.” He tries to sound sure of himself, rubbing her arm.

But she isn’t fooled.

“Are…” She bites her lip. “Are you sure?”

“He can’t do anything on his own, Rey. He’s not strong enough.”

“But…” She gulps. “Could he convince the others to join him, to go rogue as well?”

He closes his eyes, squelching a churning in his gut, not for his sake but for hers.

“Not likely.” He shakes his head. “His relationship with the others is tense. And they’re scattered all over the place. He monitors their activities, but otherwise, he doesn’t have access to them.”

“Huh.” She relaxes a bit. “So, he can’t contact them, even remotely?”

“Only in limited ways. They’re deeply imbedded in individual missions until I say otherwise.”

“Missions?” Rey knits her eyebrows.

“Yes.” He slides his jaw to the side. “They went underground after we destroyed the New Republic, took on a different function for the First Order.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He purses his lips. “Increasing our sphere our influence. And gathering intelligence.”

She grunts.

“So, they’re _spies_.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well.” She shifts against him, calmer now. “That explains a lot. Everyone’s been wondering where they are. So, this other Knight was on a mission when she disappeared, out pretending to be someone else?”

He stiffens.

“Yes.”

“And…” She tilts her head. “Why do you think she did it? Is she going rogue? Does she want to kill you too?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “She’s never wanted to kill me. At least, not that I know of. I think…” He sighs. “I think she’s just tired.”

“Tired of what?”

“All of it, probably. Being a Knight. Being a spy. Acting one way but feeling another. She…” He looks down. “She’s been doing that for a long time.”    

Rey presses her lips together.

“So… She’s like the other Knight you told me about? The one you fought with on Dorajan?”

“Similar.” He nods. “Very similar.”

“And you’ll do with her what you did with him?”

He bows his head.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Rey smiles.

“Good.” She wiggles against him. “He’s still on Dorajan you know. Has a family now.”

Kylo gapes at her.

“H-how…?” He sputters. “How do _you_ know that?”

“I figured it out.” She glances up with a glimmer. “He donates to the Resistance every now and then. Everyone on the planet thinks he used to be a First Order officer, but when you told me that story about the Knight, I _knew_ it was him.”

Kylo looks away, twitching.

“So, you’ve met him?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’s very private. His wife runs their business, at least all their public dealings.”

He exhales.

For a minute, neither of them say anything.

“Ben…” Rey sits up a little.  

She scoots forward, his arms falling from around her. She turns to face him, crossing her legs.

“Do you think…” She straightens. “That it’s possible some of the other Knights feel the same as these other two, just tired of it all?”

“ _No_.” He turns his head sharply. “They’re _in this_ for the long term, _absolutely_ committed.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, Rey,” he answers flatly. “Trust me. I _know_ them.”

“Hm.” She looks down. “I guess you do, don’t you? You’ve known them a long time. Since the Jedi academy, right?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “So?”

“So…” She scoots forward. “They must be your closest friends.”

He scoffs.

“Rey…” He shakes his head. “Do you think _Snoke_ was my friend?”

She jerks back.

“ _Definitely_ not.”

“ _Exactly_.” He leans in. “He was my master. Like I’m the Knights’ master. I was to them what Snoke was to me.”

“Was?”

“ _Am_ ,” he corrects himself.

She narrows her eyes, studying him.

He sits back, looking away.

“So, you don’t think of them as friends?”

“No.”

“You weren’t close _at all_? You never interacted with _any_ of them beyond your business as Knights?” 

At this, he darkens.

Rey senses the shift. She leans in, curious.

“Ben…?”

He adjusts on the floor, suddenly _very_ uncomfortable. He looks anywhere but at her.

His first instinct is to withdraw, to keep the thought _well hidden_.

But…

The subject is bound to come up eventually. And he’d rather get it over with now.

He sits up, but doesn’t look at Rey, his eyes fixed on the door.

“My…” He twitches. “My relationship with one of them was… complicated.”

“What does that mean?” She knits her eyebrows.

“It means…” He tenses.

He grates inwardly, _deeply_ reluctant to continue. He searches his mind, trying to find the best way to put this.  

She watches silently, her face falling.

She senses where he’s going.

“You mean…” She looks down. “It was romantic?”

“That’s _not_ the word I would use.” He stares at the door.

“What word would you use then?”

He says nothing.

A few seconds pass.

Rey tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Intimate?” She suggests tentatively.

He slides his jaw to the side.

“Physically, yes.”

She stiffens.

“Ah.” She looks down. “I see.” She sinks inwardly, suddenly _very_ insecure.

He instantly leans forward, reaching for her hand.

She doesn’t pull away, but sits perfectly still, her eyes on the floor.

“Rey…?”

She lifts her lids slowly.

“It was _nothing_ like I have with you. _At all_.” He squeezes her hand.

She stares at him, a little guarded, a little vulnerable.

But she nods.

He feels a twist in his heart. Part of him wants to show her, to let her see what it really was, the exact _opposite_ of what they have together.

But… he’s much too ashamed to let her see such things.

He withdraws his hand, leaning back against the wall. 

For a minute, neither of them say a word, only sit silently.

“Is she…?” Rey finally speaks. “The one who defected?”

“ _No_.” Kylo turns his head. “Alyse would never defect from the Knights. She…” He looks away. “She enjoys killing too much.”

Rey’s eyebrows shoot up.

Kylo stares down, a familiar heaviness in his gut.

Rey sits still for a moment, processing.

Then she shifts on the floor, curling a leg into her chest.

“Maybe…” She tilts her head. “She doesn’t enjoy killing as much as you think she does.”

Kylo glances up.

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition.” She shrugs. “And the fact that two of your Knights clearly didn’t enjoy what they were doing.”

“Rey…” He grunts. “Those two _are not_ representative of the whole. _Trust me_. Most of them are _utterly_ committed to the dark side, to the First Order.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because _I know_ them.” He shoots forward. “I _created_ them. I know _exactly_ who they are and what they’re capable of. They _love_ to maim, to torture, to kill. They feed off pain and fear like it’s their _lifeblood_. They’d raze entire _cities_ to the ground just make a point. They are _monsters_.”

He spits the final words.

Then, he sits back, looking away.

“But…” He twitches. “If they are…”

He sighs.

“It’s…” He closes his eyes. “It’s only because I made them that way.”

He hangs his head.

Shame and guilt bear down on him, filling his heart with stone. He feels heavy, so heavy he could sink right into the floor.  

And for a briefest moment, the thought occurs to him, like it has so many times before.

Would Rey feel the way she does about him if she knew, _really_ knew about all the things he’s done?

The thought doesn’t linger. It rarely does. He’s gotten so good at pushing it away, banishing it to the edges of his mind.

But it’s always lurking there, a nameless threat.

“Ben.”

He feels her hand on his cheek.

“I don’t know the Knights like you do. I don’t know who they are, what they’ve been through, all they’ve done. But I do know one thing.”

He opens his eyes to find her only a few inches away, her gaze calm and confident.

“What’s been made can be _unmade_.”

He grunts softly, lifting a hand to hers still cupping his cheek.

“Rey…” He lingers a moment before pulling it away. “This isn’t like a speeder or a generator, something you can take apart and put back together as something else. This is _people_ and _ideas_ , a way of thinking and behaving, a _culture_. I can’t just snap my fingers and remake the Knights any more than I can snap my fingers and transform this organization from war machine into a government.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.” She shakes her head. “I just said it could be done. It’ll be a process, a long one, probably.”

“So, _what?_ ” He challenges. “What would you have me do? Call them all in, tell them to forget everything I taught them over the past _decade_?”

He sucks in a breath.

“And Aeneas thought he sensed weakness _today_ …?” He scowls at the floor. “I might as well just give him a knife and bare my throat.” He tugs at his collar.

“Ben.” Rey leans in. “Aren’t _you_ the one who told _me_ to let the past die, let it all die, the Jedi, the Sith…?”

He sighs.

“Yeah, well…” He covers his eyes with a palm. “As it turns out, that’s easier said than done.”

“It was _never_ going to be easy. You knew that. But you have a chance now, a chance to build something different, to _become_ something different.”

He shakes his head.

“Ben, look at me.” She grips his forearm, pulling his hand down. “Look me in the eye right now and tell me you want to be the kind of master Snoke was to you.”

He hardens, clenching his jaw.

“ _Exactly_.” Rey sits back on her calves. “You don’t want to be like him. You _hated_ him. And you clearly hate that stupid philosophy about power, the apprentice clawing at the master’s throat. So, _change_ it. Don’t be a master like he was. Be a different kind of master. Your _own_ kind.”

She reaches for his hand, taking it into hers.

“You’re _stronger_ than he was.” She squeezes. “And wiser. You aren’t clouded by old dogma, or you don’t have to be. You and the Knights… you could be something the galaxy’s never seen before, something _new_.”

Her eyes are bright, a vision of the future flickering across them.

Kylo can’t help but be drawn in, attracted to the version of himself he sees reflected there.

And his heart swells, everything she’s feeling pouring into him— the love, the admiration, the _utter_ confidence, how _sure_ she is that he can take the shards of his past and build something he can be proud of.

For a moment, he feels it too, that same conviction. It flashes in his mind, a future where his sins become the foundation for a new age, a new life. 

She smiles, a twinkle in her eyes.

He immediately leans in, lifting a hand to her face as he closes the gap between them.

He takes her lips softly, his fingers curling behind her neck.

Then he pulls away, resting his forehead on hers.

They sit silently for a minute, heads bowed, eyes closed, as though they’re in prayer.

He wishes he could capture this, capture the way she makes him feel, carry it around with him, a constant reminder of what he’s working towards, what he could become.

He surrenders to it while he can, letting it fill him with the peace of absolute certainty.   

Finally, she pulls away, straightening.

His hand falls from her cheek. He takes a deep breath, leaning back against the wall.

“So…?” Rey raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

He glances down.  

“I think…” He starts deliberately. “We’ve spent enough time talking about me.”

She tilts her head.

“It’s your turn.” He looks up. “What were you thinking about when the bond brought us together?”

“Oh!” She sits up. “Right.” She scoots back, shifting her legs and crossing them in front of her.

She blows out an exhale, her cheeks puffing out as she does. She looks to the floor, gathering her thoughts.

“Actually…” Her jaw slides to the side. “I think it would be better to show you.” She looks up. “What are you doing in the next few hours?”

“Uh…” He knits his eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

“Because…” She scoots in a little. “I want you to meet me in the kyber cave. You know the one I mean. You had a tracker on my ship when I first went there. Can you come? Tonight?”

“Is that where you are now?”

She nods.

“I can…” He glances up, reviewing his schedule. “Move some things around. But why? What’s to see?”

“Well…” She purses her lips. “It’s less something to see and more something to experience.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Sounds mysterious. And vague.”

“ _Trust me_.” She leans in. “I think it’s something you’ll be _very_ interested in.”

“And why is that?”

“Because.” She juts her chin up. “It’s about destiny. _Our_ destiny.”

He straightens, intrigued.

“Yeah?” He studies her. “What about it? Did you hear something from the crystals?”

A smile creeps across her lips.

“You’ll just have to come and find out.” She squints teasingly.

He grunts.

“Alright.” He can’t help but smile. “Can you give me four hours?”

“Sure.” She nods. “I’ll activate the beacon you gave me so you can find me when you get there.”

“Yeah, do that.”

“ _Perfect_.” She sits up with a glimmer. “So, it’s settled. And just in time.”

He knits his eyebrows.

“The bond’s about to end,” she explains.  

“Wait…?” He leans in. “You can sense that?”

“I’m starting to.” She shrugs. “Can’t you?” She tilts her head.

But before he can answer, she disappears, sitting in front of him one second then gone the next, like a holo.

He gapes, staring at the empty space.

Then he leans against the wall, eyebrows furrowed. He stares at the floor, wondering why it is Rey can sense what he can’t.

But he doesn’t linger on the thought for long.

Soon, he pushes against the floor, rising to stand. He brushes off his pants, surveying the room.

Then he smiles, a swell of anticipation in his chest.

The next instant, he charges to the door, slapping the panel next to it and exiting into the hall. He turns, moving quickly, already rearranging his schedule in his mind.

He needs see Adler, get some appointments moved. He can’t push back the meeting with the Corellians or the consultation with the engineers on Elegin Tower. But everything else can be postponed.

He strides down the hall, picking up his pace as the stairs come into view. He’s eager to get on with it, accomplish what needs to be done, then get the hell off this ship.  

Rey’s waiting for him. And the sooner he leaves, the more time he can spend with her…

He feels a simmering under the skin, impatient to see her, to find out what she thinks she’s discovered about their destiny.

Clearly, she’s learned something from the kyber crystals. Which makes him all the more curious…

He barrels up the steps into a wide hall, a spattering of operators and officers walking by.

Some of them stare, a little longer than usual, studying him.

But he doesn’t notice.

He’s too lost in his thoughts, imagining what Rey could be up to.

He drifts back to a few minutes ago, her inviting him to the cave, that spark in her chest, how excited she is to see him there. He reviews their  conversation, what he told her about the Knights, the look in her eyes when she suggested he become a new kind of master, something Snoke never was.

Then he starts thinking about them, the Knights. He sees their faces, their personalities flash in his mind. He thinks about their history, everything they’ve been through together, everything they’ve done.  

And he darkens.

But the darkness blends with something else, another emotion, a deeply buried wish edging its way to the surface, getting closer and closer to the light.

The desire for atonement. 

He charges down the hall, visions of the future playing in his head.

Maybe he will call the Knights in. He’ll have to wait a few months, get the First Order past this rough stage in their transition. He’ll need to keep a close eye on Aeneas in the meantime, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.

But when the time is right, he’ll bring the Knights back into the fold.

Then he’ll make some changes. _Many_ changes…

He smiles as he turns the corner.

The hall’s growing more populated, groups of engineers and technicians scurrying by. Many of them slow, struck by the sight of the Supreme Leader smiling as he strides down the hall.

Kylo starts to notice the attention.

And that’s when the realization hits.

He forgot his mask. Left it abandoned on a dusty table in the meeting room.

For a moment, he considers turning around.

But he decides against it, keen to move ahead instead of going back.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance... Please forgive me. 
> 
> In an effort to avoid the horrible burnout I got last fall, I’ve decided to slow down updates during the busiest part of the semester so I can better balance work, writing, and maintaining my mental health. As a result, I’m giving myself until March 23rd to finish the next chapter. I know this sucks. I'm hoping it won’t take that long, but things are about to get hectic with midterms, piles of essays and two back-to-back family visits. 
> 
> I appreciate your patience. I REALLY do enjoy writing this, and your kindness and encouragement helps me so much. Thank you for everything!


	34. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SUMMARY: The kyber crystals give Rey and Ben a window into their destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come... I've written a mature version of this chapter that you can access above by going to the next part. For those of you who want to keep this story clean, I PROMISE I will keep the chapters here rated T. 
> 
> Also, this is a good chapter to remind you that I'm a casual Star Wars fan and some times play fast and lose with the universe, esp. with the kyber crystals. Thank you for indulging my creative license! 
> 
> Happy reading!

Rey sits cross-legged in the center of the cavern, dry, cracked earth stretching out on all sides, the ceiling looming high above.

Her eyes are closed; her back is straight. She’s on a mat she took from the training room, large and square-shaped, thick enough to cushion a hard fall.

The kyber crystals are bright tonight, brighter than usual. Some are in motion, their surfaces changing as they reorganize internally, creating a soft flicker in their glow.

Rey takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with oxygen.

But she doesn’t feel it. Not the air in her lungs, not the mat below, not her hands resting lightly in her lap.

It’s like she doesn’t have a body. In fact…

It’s like she’s not Rey at all.

She is and she isn’t.

Part of her is aware of herself— the memories, the feelings, the experiences that make her who she is.

But part of her has ascended, rising above the smallness of an individual mind.

Because right now, she’s communing with the crystals. They’ve taken her into the collective, allowed her to perceive things as they do.

And it’s… beyond what words can describe.

The closest she can get is remembering the first time she went into an ocean, walking further and further, the waves lapping against her stomach, then her chest, then her neck. She closed her eyes and dipped down, submerging herself in the warm, salty liquid. She wanted to open her eyes _so badly_ , but remembered Finn’s warning, all the stinging and burning.

That’s when the thought struck her. She couldn’t help but wonder…

What’s it like to be the water? Just _be it_?

To be everywhere all at once, every cranny, every crevice, every depth, every shallow, to see all the ocean’s wonders all the time?

Well… Now she knows.

She knows what it’s like to be the water. And the air. And the earth. And the blackness of space, so vast and vibrant.

She knows because the crystals know. When she communes with them, she sees like they do, and they see _everything_.

When she first started making out their words, she was confused. They’d argue about the strangest things, things they had no way of knowing.

Like the quality of saltwater on Cantonica. Or the shrinking numbers of Kindalo on Aleen.

How could they know such things, buried deep in this wasteland of a planet?

But when they invited her into the collective, she finally understood.

They’re connected to the Force, bound to it as part of their very being.

And the Force is everywhere. So, they are too.

 _Nothing_ escapes their view, not the darkest depths, not the remotest planets, not the emptiest regions of space. The entire _universe_ is open to them, all the time.

And when she’s part of the collective, it’s open to her too.

Sort of.

She can’t fully experience the omniscience, not without going mad. The crystals protect her mind, limiting her access to their sight.

But she sees enough to understand them now, understand how they can bicker so furiously with each other yet still feel connected as a single being.

It’s not just that they see everything as one.

It’s that they know ultimately the _entire universe_ is one, a massive engine where every single part, from the very large to the very small, comes together to form a whole. It’s all interdependent, even the things that seem opposed— life and death, predator and prey, current and countercurrent. Even as these forces struggle against each other, one can’t exist without the other.

She tries to remember this whenever she gets frustrated, consumed by some obstacle in her path or a situation that didn’t turn out how she expected.

She thinks about the crystals, what it’s like to see as they do.

And she reminds herself that whatever she’s struggling with is _necessary_ , part of a larger whole, even if she can’t see how. 

Suddenly, Rey jerks back, snapping abruptly from the collective.

She blinks a few times, disoriented. For a minute, she’s confused, struggling to remember who she is, where she is…

It comes back slowly, her mind, her body, her surroundings.

She squints, bleary-eyed, like she just woke from a deep sleep.  

She takes a breath, concentrating on the feeling. She rolls her shoulders a couple times, checking in with her body, the stiffness of her muscles.

She looks up at the crystals.

Why did they kick her out? Did she offend them somehow?

Before she can consider the question, she feels the answer, a warmth welling in her core.

She gasps, straightening.  

The next instant, she throws the blanket off her lap and crawls to the edge of the mat, reaching for her boots. She digs her socks out of one of them, then starts pulling them on, moving quickly.

He’s close. _Very_ close.

Strange…

She should have felt it when he arrived on the planet.

Maybe being in the collective interfered with her Force senses?

It wouldn’t surprise her. This is only her third time doing it, and the experience _so overwhelming_ , seeing so much at once. It probably dulls her awareness of her physical surroundings, where she actuall _y_ is.

Good thing the crystals ejected her just in time.

They’re chattering excitedly now, as eager for him to get here as she is. They know why she’s asked him to come, and they’re _dying_ for him to see what they’ve shown her.  

She finishes tying her boots, then rises, brushing off her pants. She turns to the opening across the cavern and starts making her way towards it, her heart quickening at the sound of footsteps outside.

Ben emerges before she gets there, covered in a thin layer of dust, eyes alert, searching.

He halts when he catches sight of Rey.

“Well, fancy seeing you here!” She jogs up to him, grinning.

A smile twinges his lips.

He doesn’t say a word, just leans in, curling a hand behind her neck as he descends.

He greets her with a kiss, soft and warm, his thumb at her cheek.

“Sorry for the wait,” he murmurs. “My meetings took longer than expected.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” Her lips graze his.

He slips a hand behind her waist, both of them smiling as they connect again and again, small, playful kisses, like they’re sharing secrets. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers.

“That makes two of us.” He draws her closer.

She wraps her arms around his neck, everything falling away as they lose themselves in soft skin and warm bodies, an easy, natural closeness.

The crystals shimmer all around them. They start to grow brighter, seeming to pulse, a heartbeat of glowing energy.

Suddenly, Ben pulls back, straightening to look around.

“Something’s… different.” His hands slide to her hips. “The kyber, the Force energy…” He examines the cave. “I’ve never felt it this strong before.”

“The crystals are excited.” Rey smiles. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

“For me?” He looks back. “They know me?”

“ _Oh yes_.”

“But I’ve only been here once.” He knits his eyebrows.

Rey tsks, pushing gently against his chest.

“We have a lot to talk about.” She steps back, his hands falling from her waist. “But first…” She looks him over, noticing his black clothes look almost gray. “Maybe you should clean off a bit.”

He glances down at himself, then raises his eyebrows.

“You’re the one who invited me to a _cave_.” He looks up teasingly.

“Yes, well…” She brushes a layer of dust off his arm. “I’m just trying to add some variety to your life, get you off the dreadnaught.”

He grunts.

“Come on.” She takes his hand, inspecting the grime. “I’ve got some supplies. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do.” She turns, walking to the center of the cavern.

He follows behind, lagging, brushing himself off as he goes.   

Once she reaches the training mat, she crouches next to it, sorting through a miscellaneous pile— some portions, water, scraps of cloth.   

“Do you _sleep_ here?” He fumbles with something behind her.

“I usually stay the night when I come.” She opens a canteen of water, setting it to the side. “I wasn’t planning on it this time, but then the bond happened…” She lifts a swath of fabric, examining it.

He drops his waistband and a small pouch nearby.

She sets the fabric to the side, peering at the pouch.

“What’s this?” She leans over, extending a hand.

“A surprise.” He drops his overcoat on top of it.

“For me?” She perks up.

“Not so fast,” he warns, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll show you mine after you show me yours.”

“Hm…” She glances at the overcoat. “I guess that’s fair.” She reaches for it even as she says this.

“ _Patience_ …” He nudges her away with a boot.

She drops her hand, eyeing the coat.

He walks a few steps away, continuing to brush himself off.

Rey stares intently at the overcoat, trying to sense what’s under it.

“Are you going to give me something to wash with or not?”

“Oh, right.” She jerks back, returning her attention to the pile. She grabs the canteen and scrap of cloth, pouring water over the fabric

“Here.” She rises, stepping towards him with the dampened cloth.

He takes it, wiping his hands cursorily as he inspects the cavern.

“I’ve never seen this before.” He walks towards the cave wall. “The way the crystals are moving, changing their shape. I’ve only seen them do that when someone touches them.”

“I haven’t either, actually…” Rey walks up to him as he wipes the back of his neck. “They are _really_ energized tonight, more so than usual.”

“And that’s because of me?” He turns, casting the cloth to the training mat.

“Well…” She tilts her head. “Because of us.”

“Us?”

“Yes.” Rey steps back, squinting as she looks up at the crystals. “They know why you’ve come, and they’re excited we’re here together, all chattering like crazy. They love talking about us.”

“What?” He jerks towards her. “Why? What have you told them?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “But they know everything anyway— about the bond, our relationship, _everything_.”

“But…” He narrows his eyes. “How?”

She purses her lips.

“Do you remember…” She turns to him slowly. “When I told you that the crystals think of themselves as a single being?”

He nods.

“Well, I’ve discovered why that is. A couple months ago, I asked them to explain it to me. And, in _typical fashion_ …” She rolls her eyes. “They said it was impossible to explain, something that could only be understood by experience. So…” She shrugs. “They invited me in.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“To the _collective_?”

“Yes.” She shifts to the wall. “They let me experience their single consciousness, what it’s like to be them.” She steps towards the crystals, all different shapes flickering brightly. She lifts a hand to shade her eyes.

“And what was it like?” He follows next to her.

She smiles, continuing to the wall. She stops just in front of it, kneeling before a small cluster at the bottom, seven crystals arranged like a flower, each one no larger than a fist.

Ben crouches next to her.

“Have you ever…?” She reaches for the center crystal. “Just sat and meditated until you felt like you could see everything around you— every object, every movement, _everything_ both alive and dead?

“Yes, of course.”

“Well…” Her hand travels, touching the crystals around the center. “Multiply that by a billion and you’ll start to understand what it’s like to see the way they do.”

He immediately seizes.  

He’s shocked but processing quickly, surprise transforming to revelation.

He shoots to his feet.

“They’re _omniscient_.” He steps to the wall, not bothering to shield his eyes. “ _Of course_ , they are.” He reaches for one of the clusters.  

Rey rises, smiling.  

He starts walking along the wall, touching a few of the crystals as he goes.

“They’re so attuned to the Force, they practically _are_ the Force.”

“That’s the gist of it, I think.” She follows a step behind. “It’s how they know so much, even though they’ve never left the cave.”

“So, they see everything all the time?”

“Yes, together.” She picks up her pace as he does. “They see everything together, feel everything together—”

“They _feel?_ ” He halts, snorting.

“Yes, they _feel_.” She shoots him a look. “Each crystal has its own personality, its own thoughts and emotions. But when they’re part of the collective, they share everything, so much so that every emotion is experienced as their own.”

“So, when you’re part of the collective…” He focuses on a cluster in front of him. “You see _everything?_ ”

“No.” She shakes her head. “The crystals have to protect me, limit my sight to keep me from going mad. And…” She eyes a few of the clusters. “I suspect there are things they don’t want me to see.”

“Like what?”

“Like where _my_ crystal is.” She widens her eyes. “They’re very adamant that I should come by it a certain way, at a certain time.”

“Wait a minute.” He turns. “If they already know how you’ll come by your crystal…”

“They can see the future.” She nods. “For them, time isn’t linear but happens all at once.”

His jaw drops.

He shifts back to the crystals, welling with a deep sense of awe.

“Rey…” He reaches for one but doesn’t touch it, hovering an inch away. “Do you realize what this means?” He glides his hand over the crystals, feeling their energy.

“They…” He touches one reverently. “Are an archive. The _ultimate_ archive. They’re the seat of all knowledge, everything that’s ever been or will be, only no one’s been able to access it.” He glances at her. “Until now.”

She lets out a laugh.

“Ben…” She shakes her head. “My access is _very_ limited. I don’t have a clue what they’re saying half the time and no matter how much they grow to trust me, it’s in their nature to be secretive.”

“Still.” A smile twinges his lips. “There are scholars who’ve devoted their _entire lives_ to studying kyber, yet you’ve discovered more than about them in less than a year. _You_ …” He points at her. “Could be the key.”

“The key to what?”

“ _Everything_.” He steps forward. “Understanding the crystals, the true nature of the Force, what the Jedi and Sith have been fighting about for _millennia_.” He squints with a glimmer. “ _You_ could be the one who finds the answers.”

Rey parts her lips, but says nothing. She feels herself drawn in, drawn into those dark eyes, so confident and full of possibility.

She recognizes that look. She’s seen it before. And she can’t help but be mesmerized by it, the way it seems to reflect a different version of herself— someone powerful beyond measure, not afraid of the power but emboldened by it, a beacon to lead others forward.

She looks down, a swell in her chest. The implications begin to set in— everything she could learn from the crystals, what she could do with that knowledge…

But the swell is soon countered by a heavy weight.

For a moment, she darkens, realizing what this _really_ means, the responsibility that comes with the opportunity.

She gulps.

“And to think…” She looks up, squaring her shoulders. “All this time, people like you thought the crystals were only good for making weapons.”

He flinches, looking away. He turns his back to her, walking a few steps by the wall.

“I hear you’ve been busy,” she says quietly.

He halts.

And just like that, a thick tension descends, filling the space between them.

They both know what she means. It hangs in the air, an unspoken rebuke.

He’s been mining a lot of kyber lately.

 _A lot_.

She hears about it every time she returns to the cave, the crystals bemoaning the loss of more and more deposits, disappearing and respawning somewhere else just as quickly.

And the worst part of it is…

It’s her fault.

It has to be.

Because it started not long after the bond brought them together in that labyrinth of tunnels. She told him what she’d learned, how the crystals are spreading out, burrowing themselves deep underground.

And he used that information. He used it to hunt them down and mine them.

She closes her eyes, sinking.

She needs to be more careful about what she tells him about the crystals. She has to protect them, keep them from—

“Do they mourn?”

She snaps up, startled by the question.

Ben shifts to face her. He appears even, but she senses his emotions, a twinge of guilt.

She takes a deep breath, turning to the wall.

“They don’t, actually.” She looks up at the crystals. “At least, not in a way I can tell. They complain about it, especially the fact that they have to hide, separating themselves in smaller deposits. But…” She tilts her head. “At the same time, they’re very accepting, taking the loss in stride. _Nothing_ surprises them.” She widens her eyes. “The benefit of knowing the future, I suppose.”

He nods, his face solemn. He turns to the wall.

A minute passes as both of them examine the crystals, clusters stretching out and overhead, lighting the cavern with a white-blue glow.

Rey closes her eyes, her surroundings falling away as she concentrates on the voiceless whispers swirling in her head.

For once, it doesn’t take long to understand their words, a thousand crystals berating her impatiently.

“Alright, alright,” she mutters, opening her eyes.

Ben glances at her.  

“They’re, uh…” She laughs, gesturing at the wall. “Keen on showing what you’ve come to see.”

“Well, then.” He steps towards her. “Let’s not disappoint them.”

She nods, taking a breath as she looks up.

He moves just next to her.

“Ok…” Her eyes travel to the ceiling. “Let’s sit down.” She takes a seat next to the wall.

He joins her, settling on the ground just a couple feet away.

“So, before we do this…” She crosses her legs. “You should know that the crystals are _extremely_ difficult to understand. Their language is more felt than spoken, and they’re very cryptic, sometimes on purpose but…” She shrugs. “Mostly it’s because they only know how to talk to each other.” 

Ben listens, nodding.

“Trying to make sense of their words is a process.” She raises her eyebrows. “A _difficult_ one.”

“When did you realize they talk about us?”

“Today.” She grunts. “They’ve been doing it this whole time and I had _no idea_.” 

“What was different about today?”

“Nothing, really.” She shakes her head. “I just finally put two and two together. For example…” She scoots towards him. “It started when I noticed they repeated the same word _a lot_ , over and over. The best translation would be something like…” She squints. “Mold-breaker…?” She offers tentatively. “Or pattern-breaker? _Then_ , a few weeks ago, I realized they often used the word in the plural— mold- _breakers_.”

“And that’s us?” He gestures between them.

“ _Exactly_.” She leans in. “Ben, it was so surreal…” She gazes up at the crystals. “They were talking about the mold-breakers like they normally do, only this time I had a better sense of the context because I’ve learned more of their words, and…” She shakes her head. “I realized they were talking about the time you put me on the memory walk.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Why? What were they discussing?”

“All kinds of things.” She straightens. “They didn’t just talk about that but also the time I healed your shoulder, the time you helped me pick the lock, the time I kept freezing you in the training room—”  

“But _why?_ ” He interrupts. “Why discuss _those things?_ What were they debating?”

She looks down.

“Something about…” She starts carefully. “The truth of the Force. And…” She slides her jaw to the side. “How I have a better sense of it than you do.”

“ _What!?_ ”

“ _I_ didn’t say it.” She points to herself. “ _They_ did.” She points to the wall.

“But…” He sputters. “If they call us both the same thing, how did you know they were talking about you?”

“Because.” She juts her chin up. “I’ve learned how they indicate gender.”

He twitches, looking away.

“A few thought _you_ had the better sense of the Force,” she adds hastily. “At least… the potential to.”

He tenses, irritated.

“And what was the point?” He demands. “Why argue about that?”

“I’m not _entirely_ sure…” She glances at the wall. “But I know it was something about the purpose of the bond.”  

“Really?” He perks up. “Did they say what it was?”

“ _That_ …” She points at him. “Is why you’re here. I asked them about it, about the bond and its purpose.”

“ _And_?”

“And I want you to see what they showed me.”

“Alright…” He knits his eyebrows. “But why did I have to be here for that? Couldn’t you have just shown me the memory?”

“ _No_.” She shakes her head. “The crystals communicate with feelings as much as anything else. If I just showed you the memory, you wouldn’t get the full experience. But if you’re _here_ …” She points to the ground. “In my mind when I ask them again…”

“Let’s do it.” He sits up. “Right now. Are they ready?”

“ _Oh, yes_.” She looks at the crystals. “Very ready.”

“Good.” He scoots close. “Just let me know when.” He closes his eyes. She senses his eagerness, a boyish kind of excitement.

She smiles, closing her own eyes.

“I’m ready.”

Not a second later, she feels invisible fingers slip into her mind. She can’t help but recoil, that vulnerable feeling washing over her.

But it doesn’t last long.

Because the crystals don’t wait for her to ask the question. They swoop down on her, overwhelming her senses. She gives herself over to them, and they eagerly take control, sweeping everything away until there’s only darkness.  

The darkness is empty, but not in a lonely way. There’s an evenness to it, not good or bad, just there.

Then, very slowly, it starts to change. It’s as though the darkness just realized it’s empty and needs to be filled. It maintains its evenness but grows more dynamic, the evenness no longer a void of feeling but a balance of it, like a scale teetering slightly from side to side.

Warmth blends with cold and as it does, a tiny light appears in the distance. It’s faint at first, but grows brighter, soon joined by others, scattered across the darkness like stars.

Then suddenly, they’re in motion, the stars rushing by like at lightspeed except they’re in color, flying past in brilliant streams— blue, green, gold, pink, every color imaginable. They weave and blend, whipping by faster and faster.

Yet, despite the speed, the peacefulness remains, that teetering scale of warmth and cold, one sometimes stronger than the other but never overwhelmingly so. They coexist, an easy, natural balance.

But, gradually, the scale begins to tip, the warmth rising dramatically and the cold receding in turn, back and forth. The relationship between them changes, from steady coexistence to a violent tug of war, one seeking to shrink the other. 

The streaming colors grow wild, unstable. Instead of blending gently, they grow frantic, crisscrossing all over the place so there’s no longer a sense of speeding forward but jerking down and up, from side to side, lost in an array of clashing colors.

In an instant, it stops, the streaming colors no longer in motion, only twinkles in the blackness. The violent tug of war halts, not gone but suspended.  

It’s like time just froze. Everything looks frozen, feels frozen.

Until two celestial bodies creep into view from either side. They move towards one another, vague circular shapes, expanding and contracting subtly. One’s a bluish-white and the other looks like fire, a blaze of red and orange.

As they get closer, they start to speed up, heading towards an inevitable collision. It feels dangerous, destructive, like the moment they touch, they’ll explode, taking the whole universe with them.

But then, just before they speed into one another, they change, the edges of each circle growing hazy. Instead of colliding, they merge, a bleeding of blue and red that seems to search for a new shape. Its color starts to change, joined by greens and yellows and purples, all manner of shades swirling together in a giant mass.

The mass expands, consuming everything around it, swallowing the stars and the blackness as it grows brighter and brighter, the brilliant colors slowly blending until they disappear into blinding white light. It expands until it covers everything, until there’s only shimmering whiteness.

But the white isn’t just white. It only seems that way at first. After a few moments, it’s true nature emerges, the combination of every color there is, coming together to form a single brightness.

It’s beautiful, not just the sight of it but the way it feels, dynamic but peaceful, full of every emotion imaginable, gradients of warmth and cold existing all at once. There are cycles, combinations that grow stronger than the others, but they recede just as they overwhelm, another combination of warmth and cold emerging in its place.

It’s perfect.

Perfect balance. Perfect stability. A oneness of spirit despite all the different colors, all the different emotions.

It’s so beautiful that when the vision disappears, it feels bleak, like waking to find your happy life, full of peace and joy, was only a dream.

The crystals withdraw slowly, easing from Rey’s mind. Ben leaves with them, invisible fingers slipping away.

She takes a deep breath, bringing herself back to the present, keeping her eyes closed until that terrible bleakness wanes and she feels like herself again. 

She opens her eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. She blinks a few times, Ben gradually coming to view.

He looks strange, dazed, like he can’t remember where he is. He’s staring down, eyes distant.

“Ben?”

She tries to sense his emotions but he feels numb.

“Ben?”

He squints at the ground, eyebrows furrowed.

The next instant, he sits up, shaking his head.

“What the hell was that?” He points at the wall.

Rey tsks.

“Welcome to the joys of communicating with kyber crystals.” She smiles wryly. “They don’t exactly give straight answers.”

“ _That_ ,” he spits. “Was a vision, not an answer. How are we supposed to make sense of that?”

“By talking about it, of course.” She shrugs. “Trying to interpret what we saw, what we felt.”

He rolls his eyes.

“We might as well have gone to a fortune-teller,” he mutters. “Opened up a toccat to read its entrails.”

“That wasn’t divination, Ben,” she admonishes. “The crystals _actually_ know the future. We should listen to them.”

“But can they not give us a clearer answer than that?” He throws a hand up at the wall. “Can’t you talk to them? Ask them what it means?”

“I _did_.” She widens her eyes. “But they ignored me, which is their way of saying ‘Figure it out.’”  

He pushes out an exhale.

“Listen.” She draws a knee into her chest. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s the closest we’re going to get to understanding the purpose of the bond.”

He scoffs.

“What?” She leans forward. “You have a better idea?”

He looks away.  

“That’s what I thought.” She leans back. “You said it yourself. The crystals are so connected to the Force, they practically are the Force. If we’re ever going to figure out what it wants from us, they’re our best bet.”

He shakes his head, annoyed. But she senses him relent…

“So.” He sighs. “I take it you have an interpretation of what they showed us?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She juts her chin up. “And was thinking about that very thing when the bond brought us together today.”

“Alright.” He presses a palm on the ground, shifting back. “What is it then?”

She straightens, squaring her shoulders.

“I think…” She crosses her legs, wiggling a little closer. “That the key to the vision was that middle part, the part where it was like racing through space at lightspeed, all the colors rushing by. Tell me.” She leans in. “What did you feel then?”

He glances to the side.

“I felt…” He purses his lips. “Like I was in a war. Especially near the end.”

“Yes!” She practically interrupts him.  “So, you felt it, too? The violence, like two sides were trying to destroy each other?”

He nods.

“Did you feel anything…” She pauses. “Familiar?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “A lot of things felt familiar.”

“Yes, but did you feel anything _extreme_ , the kind of thing you’ve only felt once?” 

“Like what?”

“Like…” She looks down. “Death. Lots of it.”

He instantly darkens. A heavy weight descends, crushing him. He struggles against it, but it only grows stronger, filling his heart with shame.  

He knows what she means.

Because he felt it too.

She crosses her legs, resting her hands in her lap.

For a moment, both of them are silent.

“I know what death feels like,” she starts quietly. “But what I felt in that vision, near the end, before everything froze… That’s something I’ve only felt once.” She presses her lips together. “It was when the First Order destroyed Hosnian Prime.” 

He bows.

“But, I felt something else too.”

He glances up.

“Right after it, I felt something similar but on a smaller scale, thousands of lives crying out in pain. It reminded me of being on Starkiller, what I felt as we escaped, the planet collapsing in on itself.”  

He grunts, his lips twisting grimly.

“We lost a lot of people that day.”

“I know,” she whispers. “We’ve all lost a lot people. And we keep losing more and more and more. That’s what I felt in that part of the vision— an escalation of death.”

He gazes across the cavern.

“I just can’t take my mind off it, the way one side kept trying to snuff the other out, going to more extreme lengths to do it— _more_ violence, _more_ destruction.” She takes a breath. “And I couldn’t help but think about the past, how we got to where we are right now.”

He looks back at her.

“I thought about…” She extends a hand to one of the crystals, touching it lightly. “The Empire, how they used kyber to make the Death Star, a weapon capable of _so much_ death. I thought about how Skywalker destroyed it. But…” She withdraws. “The Empire just built another one, nearly destroyed the Rebellion.”

She sighs.

“Then the Rebellion bounced back, destroyed the Death Star again, destroyed the Empire. But that wasn’t the end.” She shakes her head. “The First Order just grew up in its place, built weapon that was _even worse_ , destroyed a whole star system. Then the Resistance destroyed the weapon, and the First Order responded by nearly destroying us and building another one in its place.” She cocks her head. “Sound familiar?” 

He just stares.    

“ _We_ …” She sucks in a breath. “ _Are stuck_. We’re stuck in a pattern that gets deadlier and deadlier every time we repeat it. It’s like we’re doomed to follow the same cycle, again and again.” She pushes out an exhale. “Unless…” She leans in close. “ _We_ _break it_. _Break_ the pattern. _Break_ the mold.” She beats her palm with a fist.

“Ben, _this_ is it.” She sits up. “I’m _sure_ of it. This is what it’s all for, the bond, our relationship. _We_ …” She gestures between them. “Are destined to find _another way_ to end this war, one where one side doesn’t destroy the other.”

He listens intently, black eyes swimming.  

“I mean…” She throws up a hand. “Clearly, that’s not working. The Resistance can’t destroy everyone who thinks like you anymore than the First Order can destroy everyone who thinks like us. We _have_ to find another way. That, or we’ll just keep running in circles until we’re all dead.”

Ben looks distant now, deep in thought.

She backs away, watching closely. She tries to be patient, give him time to process, but it feels like a thousand insects are crawling under her skin.

She waits, tapping the ground with a foot.

“So…” She can’t stand it any longer. “What do you think?”

He gazes across the cavern, seeming unaware of her.

After a minute, he sits up, turning to the wall. He reaches for one of the clusters, touching the center crystal.

“I think…”

She senses his emotions, a heavy reluctance.

Her shoulders sink.

“You…” She looks down. “You don’t agree.”

“I didn’t say that.” He turns to face her.

“You don’t have to.”

“Rey…” He sighs. “It’s just…” He shakes his head. “That part of the vision, the violence, the jerking from side to side… It felt different to me.”

“ _How?_ ”

“Everything you just talked about, the Empire, the Rebellion, that’s only been in the last century. But the _vision…?_ ” He raises an eyebrow. “It felt bigger. It felt like millennia. Didn’t it?”

“I guess…” She bobs her head. “It did.”

“So, if we’re meant to break a pattern, it’s one that’s been going on for a _long_ time, thousands of years even.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He dips his chin. “The struggle between Bogan and Ashla, the dark and light. How much do you know about that?”

Her eyes flit upward.

“Not as much as you, I’m sure.”

“Well, it’s been going on _forever_.” He leans in. “The Force Wars of Tython. The First Schism. The Hundred-Year Darkness. You know that’s where the Sith come from, right?”

She tilts her head.

“They were the exiles after the war,” he informs her. “The Jedi banished them, deemed their interpretation of the Force a perversion, _refused_ to recognize any value in it. And so…” His turns his head wryly. “The Sith sought revenge, wanted to destroy Jedi _completely_ , just like they tried to destroy them.”

She looks down.

“They weren’t any better, really. The Sith were just as dogmatic, just as narrow-minded. They saw the light only as weakness.”

Rey says nothing, just stares at the ground, processing.

After a minute, she looks up.

“The Sith…” She purses her lips. “They were behind the creation of the Empire, were they not?”

“Yeah.”

“And what was left of the Jedi, they allied with the Rebellion?”

“What’s your point?” He narrows his eyes.

“Well, it seems like these wars over the past century are just an extension of the Force wars, the struggle between dark and light.”

“You could say that.”

“So, we’re essentially talking about the same thing. Two sides trying to destroy each other but never able to fully do it.”

“Kind of…” He starts carefully.

“What do you mean _kind of?_ ”

“Come on, Rey. Think about it.” He sits up. “Think about the end of the vision, celestial bodies like water and fire becoming a white light, expanding to cover everything.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that _exactly_ what the crystals told you when you asked them about the dark and the light? There’s only one Force, they said.”

“They did—”

“And when you heard them talking about us,” he cuts her off. “Everything you mentioned had something to do with the Force. I mean why argue about who has a better sense of it when discussing the purpose of the bond?” He gestures to the wall. “It just makes sense, it fits what they showed us— the scope of it, what we saw at the end. Maybe _that’s_ the purpose of the bond, for us to end all this squabbling about the dark and the light and build something new, a way of viewing the Force that reflects what it _really_ is.”

But…” She knits her eyebrows. “These wars, the Empire, the First Order, that’s been part of the squabbling. You and Snoke wanted to use the First Order’s power to wipe out the Jedi for good.”

“That’s true,” he admits. “But politics aren’t the heart of the struggle. Ideology is.”

“What’s the difference?”

He groans, throwing his head back.

“Rey…” He covers his eyes. “Can we not…” He drags a palm over his face. “Consult the crystals about this, describe both our interpretations and ask who’s right?”

She snorts.

“First off, I don’t know enough of their language to describe all this, and _secondly_ …” She hugs a knee into her chest. “Even if I did, they wouldn’t answer me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“ _Yes, Ben_ …” She rolls her eyes. “Trust me. I know them. It won’t be worth the effort.”

He glances to the side. After a minute, he gets a sly look, like he’s hatching some sort of plan.

 “ _Maybe_ …” He has a glint in his eye. “We could go about this indirectly. Instead of asking about the vision, we could ask about the bond, get at the answer we need another way.”

“Like…?”

“Like we can ask when the bond will _end_.” He leans in. “Presumably, it’ll stop once we fulfill its purpose. So maybe their answer will give us better idea of what that is.”

“ _If_ they answer.” She cocks her head.

“Would you at least _try it_?” He goads. “Surely you can ask something that simple, no?”

“ _Yes_.” Her eyes flit upward. “I can do that.”

“Ok, so…” He gestures to the wall.

“Fine.” She pushes out an exhale. “Fine.” She crosses her legs. “I’ll give it a try.”

She adjusts on the ground, straightening and closing her eyes. She feels Ben watching her, feels his impatience.

She ignores him, concentrating on the voiceless whispers passing through, letting them fill the foreground of her mind.

It always takes a couple of minutes to get used to the language, sense the words, their meanings, as much felt as spoken. But soon, she’s consumed in the conversation, making out pieces here and there. The first word she catches is “mold-breakers.”

They’re talking about them again.

She breathes deeply, reaching out through the Force. First, she calls to the crystals, trying to get their attention. One by one, they start swimming in her head, indicating receptiveness. She starts putting together the question, feeling every word, a language of the heart.

To her surprise, the crystals answer the moment she finishes, repeating the same thing again and again, a rising chant filling her mind.

She opens her eyes slowly. She blinks a few times, the crystals fading to the background, Ben’s face coming into view.

“Did they answer?”

“Yes.” She sounds distant.  

“ _And?_ ”

“They said…” She stares into space. “The bond will end when we become one.”

His shoulders drop.

“That’s…” He sighs. “Not exactly what I was hoping for.”

Rey’s eyes drift to the ground. She feels dazed, lost in the chant of a thousand whispers echoing in her mind, the way the words felt as the crystals repeated them over and over.

It felt like being in the eye of a storm, tension and violence swirling around her, threatening to sweep her into the fray. And yet, she felt so grounded, enveloped in a warm sense of belonging.

It felt like being in his arms. It felt like home.

“What do you think they mean?”

She snaps up, startled.

Ben watches her closely.

“I…” She takes a breath. She still feels dazed, faraway. “I don’t know. Maybe they mean… our ideologies?” She scrunches her face. “Our way of thinking? Like a oneness of mind, sharing the same goals?” She flinches, already critical of this interpretation.

It just doesn’t match what she felt…

“Could be.” He brings a hand to his jaw. “Or maybe it’s more literal.”

“Like…?” She knits her eyebrows.

“Like a physical oneness.”

She immediately shoots him a look.

“Not like _that_ ,” he clarifies. “Though…” His lips turn up. “Perhaps we shouldn’t dismiss the idea.” He squints teasingly.

She shakes her head but can’t fight a smile.

“I mean…” He scoots a little closer. “That the bond exists to bring us together even though we’re apart. So maybe when we’re physically together most of the time, it won’t be necessary.”  

She nods slowly, considering this.

“Or maybe it’s both,” he continues. “When we’re one in the sense of sharing the same goals, we’ll be one in the physical sense as well— in one place, one position.”

Rey grunts, rolling her eyes.

“In the same position, huh?” She raises a mocking eyebrow. “Like… ruling the galaxy together?” 

He smiles, a glint in his eye.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure it does to _you_." She glares at him.

“Rey…” He pushes out an exhale. “ _Come on_. Be logical about this. You’re letting prejudice blind you.” His sounds imperious now. “ _Think_ about it. Whatever it is we’re supposed to accomplish, we certainly can’t do it while we’re on opposite sides of a war, opposite sides of the galaxy. We have to come together _somehow_.”

“And ruling at the head of the First Order is the _only possible way_ we could come together, huh?”

“It makes the most sense.” He doesn’t skip a beat. “We’ll have more power, the best ability to effect change.”

She shakes her head, looking away.

“Rey, _for once_ , think about this objectively—”

“Ben, let me ask you something.” She whips towards him. “If I asked you to abandon the First Order _today_ , to join the Resistance and be with me, would you do it?”

“ _No_.”

“ _Exactly_.” She shoots forward. “So why do you expect me to do something you wouldn’t even _consider_ doing yourself?”

He clenches his jaw.

“Why do _I_ have to be the one to bend, the one to abandon _everything_ I’m building, _everyone_ I care about?”

“ _Rey_.” His tone is clipped. “Do you _not_ expect me to do the _exact same thing_ , to become Ben Solo and abandon _everything_ I’ve worked for so I can join you in tearing it all to pieces?”

“No.”

He narrows his eyes.

She tenses.

“I _admit_ …” She crosses her arms. “There was a time when that’s what I wanted, what thought the bond was for, but…” She looks down. “As time went on, as the bond started to change, we started to change, I don’t know…” She grows distant. “It just didn’t feel right, anymore. These days I feel like the bond doesn’t exist so we can convert each other but so we can compromise, find a middle ground.” She gazes into nothing.

After a moment, she sits up.

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “I’m still figuring it out. My ideas about the bond are always changing. Every time it brings us together, I get a new piece of the puzzle and the way I think about it shifts, just a little.” She tilts her head. “I’d like to it’s evolving.”

Ben stares blankly, his expression cold, like a mask.

“Tell me…” She narrows her eyes. “Is it the same for you?”

He just stares at her.

“Has your thinking about the bond changed since it started happening?” She raises an eyebrow. “ _Or_ …” She leans in. “Have you always just seen it as a tool to get what you want?”

She catches the subtlest flinch.

For a moment, they glare at each other, eyes locked in a kind of battle.

Finally, Ben looks away, twitching.

The tension is thick now, filling the space between them. It’s feels almost palpable, like she could reach out and touch it.

“You know what I think?” She juts her chin up.

He doesn’t look at her.

“I think…” She keeps her eyes on him. “You’re so _obsessed_ with this fantasy of us ruling together that you’re blinded by it.”

He hardens his jaw. 

“I think it’s the reason you _refuse_ to see any truth to my interpretation of the vision, of the bond.”

He tenses, but says nothing.  

“It can’t be true because it conflicts with what you want. You’re too stubborn to consider a future different from the way you see it.”

“I’m not the only one who’s _stubborn_ ,” he snaps at her. 

“That’s true.” Her gaze doesn’t waver. “But I’m willing to question myself, question my beliefs, my feelings. If I encounter something uncomfortable, I don’t push it away. I _confront it_. I _think about it_.” She leans in. “What about you?”

He struggles to maintain eye contact, wincing with a flash of insecurity.

But he quickly hardens, burying the feeling.

Rey closes her eyes, consumed with frustration.

But it’s not the angry kind. It’s the sad kind, that soul-weary disappointment that only comes from seeing someone you love be their own worst enemy.

She sighs.

They both feel heavy now, exhausted from the tension, this back and forth that seems to get them _nowhere_. She senses his irritation blend with a kind of heartache, almost like desperation.

She glances up.

He’s wearing his mask now, that practiced coldness offsetting what she feels in him, making it all the more stark, all the more painful.

“Hey,” she says softly.

He looks up, guarded.

“Take a break?”

He relaxes, some of that coldness melting away.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s take a break.”

He lets out an exhale, dragging a palm over his face. She takes a few breaths, concentrating on each one, gradually letting go of her frustration until she feels calm and even. They both shift a little, their muscles stiff from sitting so long. She stretches, twisting to the wall, then to the mat in the center of the cavern.

Suddenly, she straightens, remembering something.

“Hey.” She turns to Ben.

He’s rolling his neck, still a bit weary.

“Um…” She presses her lips together. “Can I, uh…” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “See my surprise now?”

“Oh.” He jerks back. “Right.” He nods. He uncrosses his legs, pressing his palms on the ground to rise. Once standing, he arches his back, loosening his muscles. She moves to join him and he offers his hand to help her up.

By the time she gets to her feet, his expression has changed, his face soft, his eyes gentle. She can’t help but note the contrast, how quickly he can shift from being so cold and to being warm, inviting even.

“Come on.” His lips tease upward. He pulls her hand, guiding her to the center of the room.

She follows next to him, marveling at the change in energy, how just the touch of him can sweep the tension away. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, a silent assurance that even through all their arguing, their feelings for each other haven’t changed.

She can’t help but think back to what the crystals told her, what she felt when they swirled in her mind, chanting that the bond would end when they become one. Such peace in the midst of chaos…

She feels it now in the warmth of his hand, his gentle grip. It makes her feel safe, confident in the knowledge that in spite of the chasm between them, their connection is strong enough to bridge the gap.

He releases her hand as they reach the mat, lowering to kneel by his coat. He uncovers the pouch, and she feels a rush of anticipation at the sight of it. He rises, opening it.  

He reaches inside slowly.

Then he stops.

He glances up, seeming to enjoy holding her in suspense.

She bounces a little, squirming with impatience but also relishing the moment, how excited he is to reveal the surprise.

Finally, he lifts his hand.

She gasps as soon as she sees what’s inside.

_A lightsaber._

“ _Don’t_ lose this one,” he warns, handing it to her.

She takes it with bright eyes, bringing it close to study it. The hilt is silver and gold, a black grip near the bottom. It’s a little heavier than she’s used to but well-balanced, like she could lift it with the tip of her finger and it wouldn’t fall.

“I’m serious, Rey. This is an extremely rare weapon.”

“Why?” She looks up. “What’s special about it?”

“It belonged to a powerful Jedi…” He begins, a glint in his eye. “One of the _fiercest_ warriors who ever lived. Dynamic. Unpredictable. Just the _sight_ of the blade in battle could strike fear into the heart of the enemy. It was unmistakable, a unique color.”

She knits her eyebrows.

“See for yourself.” He nods at the saber.

She backs away a few steps, her eyes fixed on the weapon. She runs a thumb along the hilt.

Then, she switches it on.

An amethyst blade shoots out the end. Rey watches, transfixed, a purple glow lighting her skin.

“The color of a Jedi’s blade reflects the owner.” He clasps his hand behind him, smiling as she studies the saber. “The owner of _this_ blade dabbled in the combat arts of the Sith. He was more aggressive than most Jedi, the only one known to master the form of Juyo without turning to the dark side.”

Rey swings the blade at her side, feeling the force of it, a smooth, powerful strike.

“One could argue,” Ben continues, “he simply learned to manage his darkness, kept it tucked away, a quiet rage he could unleash at will.” 

She weaves the blade from side to side, slow at first but picking up speed. She whips to the right, jabbing the air, the energy of the weapon coursing through her. It feels like a controlled flame, blazing hot but never spreading, a fire that will only destroy what it’s intended to.

She turns it off, gazing at the hilt in her hand. She stares down at it, trying to imagine its former owner. She pictures a man, tall and stone-faced, the kind who’s so cool it’s unnerving. But just beneath the skin, there’s fire, a passion for justice, intolerant of corruption, the _will_ to protect and to lead.

“You know…” She tilts her head, studying the saber. “I think you’re right.” She looks up.

Ben stands a few feet away, watching closely.

“I think we _are_ meant to change how people see the Force.” She turns on the saber and the blade shoots out, casting a purple glow on the cracked earth. She brings it to her face, close enough to feel the heat, close enough to notice subtle gradients of red and blue.

She switches it off again.

“Anger, passion…” She steps towards him, attaching the saber to her belt. “The desire to control, make the change you want to see through will and power. There’s value in these things.”

His eyes flicker.

“As long as they’re balanced.” She stops just in front of him.

He observes her carefully, hopeful but guarded.

“ _But_ …” She juts her chin up. “I think I’m right too.” Her gaze is calm and confident. “We can’t change how people view the Force as long as the galaxy’s so unbalanced. We have to make peace, confront the past, build a foundation for the future. That’s _how_ we’ll show people the truth, that there are no sides, only one Force, one universe, one where we thrive together or die together.”

He listens, hardening, a coldness returning to his eyes. 

“Ben.” Without thinking, she grabs his hand, bringing it to her lips. “ _Please_.” She kisses the warm skin. “ _Please._ ” She looks at him, eyes pleading.

He softens, surprise and tenderness written across his face.

“Will you just _consider_ the possibility that we’re meant to find a diplomatic solution to this war, one where both sides can _live_?”

He swallows, staring at her.

“I _know_ you don’t want to destroy the Resistance.” She encircles his hand with hers. “If you did, you would have done it by now. You don’t want to destroy everything I’ve built, everything your mother’s built because—” Her voice breaks. “Because you love us.”

His throat tightens.

“Please, Ben.” She closes her eyes, pressing her lips against his fingers. “ _Please_. Promise me you’ll think about it.” She looks up at him.

He’s vulnerable now, dark eyes full of pain and love, all his reservations grating against his intuition, the call of his heart.

“I—” He takes a slow breath. “I will.” He nods.

Rey exhales, relaxing.

“On one condition.”

Her face falls. She releases his hand, letting it fall to his side.

He stares down at her, eyes gentle but firm.

“I want you…” He starts slowly. “To consider that part of this diplomatic solution will be you joining _me_ , leading with me at the head of the First Order.”

She inhales sharply.

But the next instant, she lets the initial burst of anger go. She looks to the ground for a minute, processing. Finally, she lifts her head.

“I’ll think about it,” she says quietly.

“Ok.” He nods.

“Ok.”

They stare at each other a moment, evenly at first. But soon, their lips turn upward, a warmth gathering in their eyes.

He lifts a hand to her face, grazing her cheek with a thumb. She steps in, sliding her palms up his chest as he descends.

Their kiss is long and lingering, a manifestation of the desire to connect, push past all their bickering and focus on how they feel about each other. She curls her fingers behind his neck as their lips press softly, one kiss leading to the next. He tilts his head, smiling as they connect again, then again.

They pull away at the same time, reading each other, knowing instinctively what they want to do. He frames her face, resting his forehead on hers as they both close their eyes, surrendering to the warmth, both physical and spiritual, a oneness of the heart.

Who knows how long they stay like this. Neither of them has a sense of time. They’re too lost in each other, in the peace of their closeness.

Finally, Rey opens her eyes. He lingers a moment before lifting his head, inhaling deeply. They gaze at each other, lips turned up in tacit smiles of understanding.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For coming here. For listening to me, considering my point of view.”

He strokes her cheek with a thumb.

“And for this.” She places a hand on the saber at her belt.

His smile deepens.

“That’s not all I brought, you know.”

“Oh?” She perks up. “There’s more?”  

He squints with a glimmer. Then, he backs away, his hands falling from her face as he turns to retrieve the pouch beside the mat. The moment he lifts it, she can see it’s still weighed down, something else inside. He reaches in, letting the empty pouch fall to the ground. He turns back to her, extending his hand.

She takes what looks like another lightsaber, except this one’s much lighter. She looks at it curiously, realizing it’s empty.

“What’s this?” She looks up.

“That’s for _your_ crystal.” He nods to the silver cylinder. “When we find it.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks down, gripping the empty shell. She gazes at the unmade weapon, feeling the thickness of the metal.

 _Her_ lightsaber.

She tingles, a spark in her chest as she imagines the future, how it will feel to _finally_ have a weapon made just for her. She pictures a blade shooting out at the end, blue like Skywalker’s.

No, no. That’s not right.

Maybe purple? A deeper shade, like violet?

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ben interrupts her thoughts, seeming to read her mind.

“Thank you.” She looks up, her eyes glistening. “For this.” She lifts the cylinder. “Thank you for giving me something to look forward to, for giving me hope.”

He gazes down softly, understanding that her gratitude extends far beyond the empty shell in her hand.

He nods, smiling.

Then he looks up, his gaze drifting to the cave wall.

“The crystals are back to normal,” he observes the cavern, the clusters glowing less brightly. “I guess it’s business as usual now the excitement’s over.” He glances at Rey. “Do you think they’re still talking about us?”

“Probably.” She tilts her head back, eyeing the ceiling.

“Can’t you hear them?”

“Yes,” she answers absently. “But I can’t understand what they’re saying unless I focus. Otherwise, they’re just background noise. I’ve gotten quite good at ignoring them, actually.”

“You’d have to.” He grunts. “If you _sleep_ here.”

At this, she snaps to him, a question in her eyes.

“Do you…?” She bites her lip. “Do you have to go?”

“Not immediately.” He shakes his head. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she says quickly. “Just curious.”

He squints, sensing there’s more.

She looks down, a little sheepish.

“I just…” She shuffles her feet. “I guess I was hoping you might stay the night.”

“I can do that.”

“You can?” She brightens.

“Of course.” His eyes grow warm. “No one expects me back until the morning.”

She smiles, a swell in her chest.

“Come on.” He nods to the mat beside them. “Get your things and let’s go.” He turns, stooping to retrieve his overcoat.

“Where are we going?”

“The shuttle.” He brushes the coat off. “Where else?”

“Why not stay here?” She knits her eyebrows. “I have pillows, a blanket big enough for both of us.”

He scoffs.

“Wouldn’t you rather sleep on an actual _bed_?”

She bristles at his tone.

“Not really.” She straightens, making herself tall. “I sleep just as well right here. Or on a rock. Or in the grass. I can sleep anywhere, really.”

He eyes her doubtfully. 

“I _can_ ,” she insists.

“Well…” He slips on his overcoat. “Some of us are accustomed to sleeping on an actual _mattress_.”

“Oh, come on…” She crosses her arms. “Surely you’ve slept in the wild before.”

“I _have_.” He stoops down for his waistband. “But it’s been a while.”

“Perhaps it’s time to revisit your past, enjoy the wonders nature.”

“Uh huh.” He glances at her dryly. “It’s truly wonderful, especially the way you can’t turn the lights off.”  

“They’re not so bright now.” She looks up the crystals. “They’re quite dim, actually, just a soft glow. It’s very romantic.”

“I can replicate this light on my shuttle, you know.”

“Yes, but it’s not the same.”

He wrinkles his nose.

“That’s it.” She reaches for his waistband, pulling it from him. “We’re staying here.”

“ _Hey_.” He jerks it back. “This isn’t an executive decision.”

“Ben.” She puts a hand on her hip. “I’ve spent the night in your world. Now it’s time for to spend the night in mine. And guess what? Half the time I’m sleeping underground in a tunnel full of slaves, who _by the way_ spend their entire lives sleeping on the mat like this one _if they’re lucky_.” She leans in.

He groans, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, now. Don’t give me that.” She grabs his waistband again. “It’ll be good for you.”

He grips it more tightly.

“As the Supreme Leader, you should know how a _huge_ chunk of the galaxy goes to bed at night. Who knows?” She cocks her head. “Maybe it’ll inspire you to move up your timeline to shut down the slave markets.”

He pushes out an exhale.

“Fine.” He releases the waistband begrudgingly. “Fine.” He takes off his coat, casting it to the ground.

“That’s the spirit!”  

He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like it matters.” He nudges the mat with a boot. “I can’t sleep half the time, anyways. If I get six hours, it’s a good night. A _very_ good night.”

“Do you really have such a hard time sleeping?”

He looks away, twitching. Instead of answering, he crouches next to the mat, organizing his things in a pile.

Rey watches, the realization setting in.

Of course, he doesn’t sleep well. He has a lot to worry about. And a lot on his conscience…

She presses her lips together.

After a moment, she moves to the mat, taking a seat next to him. She starts untying her boots and he shifts to sit beside her, doing the same.

“Are you all set for Llanic?” His fingers move quickly.

“ _Mostly_ …” She grabs a heel and pulls. “I’ve got the team together, but I need to debrief them. I’m waiting to hear back from my contact in the market on Radama.”

He nods, sliding off a boot.

“This one should be easy.” He places the boot to the side. “All our intel indicates the cartel’s leadership is weak. You might not have to deal with any bombs.” He pulls off another one. “Though I’d expect to, just to be safe.”

“Of course.” She takes off a sock and stuffs it in her shoe. She pauses as she pulls off the other one, remembering something. 

She’s been meaning to mention this. But she’s always so distracted when they’re together. Better do it now before she forgets...

She takes off the sock slowly. She fiddles with it a second before putting it with the other one. She turns to find Ben staring at her.

He felt the shift, of course…

“What?”

“Uh...” She squirms a little. “I just…” She taps her fingers on the mat. “I just thought you’d want to know…” She looks down.

She feels his eyes on her.

“Do you remember that trooper, the one who beat the man looking for his wife?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” She takes a breath. “As it turns out…” She glances up. “That wasn’t an isolated incident.”

His shoulders drop.

“My team was spread all over the camp on Kaddak and…” She scrunches her face. “Everyone saw something similar. Some more than once.”

He hardens.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She nods.

They both turn forward, a little awkward now. Rey stares at the ground for a few seconds. Then she reaches for her new saber, sliding it from her belt. She places it carefully next to the mat.

“Rey…”

She turns to Ben. His expression is solemn.

“I want to know if you see something like that again, if _anyone_ does.”

“Of course.” She sits up. “I’ll give you a full report.”

“Good.”

She takes a breath, returning her attention to her belt, undoing the clasp and pulling it off. She sets it next to her boots, then straightens, shifting the Ben. He’s pulling off his undershirt, casting it on the pile with the rest of his things  

“Alright!” She smiles. “Time for you to get a taste of how the other half lives.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“Don’t be grumpy, now.” She pats his thigh. “It’ll be easier than you think. People do it all the time.” She turns to the mat, grabbing the blanket.

Then she crawls to the pillows at the other end. There are two of them, a little flat but comfortable. She grabs one, stacking it on top of the other as Ben sidles up to her. She scoots down, lying on her side and resting her head on the pillows. She throws the blanket over her.

A second later, he lifts it, curling up beside her, his bare chest at her back. He slips an arm under her, the other wrapping around the front. Whatever irritation he felt is gone now, replaced by tenderness. He rubs her forearm a couple times, his breath at her ear, then covers her hand tucked at her chest.

She exhales, closing her eyes and melting into the warmth.

 _This_ … This right here.

This is what home feels like.

It’s everything she imagined it would be— to feel like she belongs, like she’s precious, a human treasure to be loved and protected, _never_ to be cast away.

She squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around his wrapped around her. He tightens his hold, nuzzling the back of her neck.

She smiles.

“See…?” She whispers. “This isn’t so bad.”

“No.” He kisses the skin behind her ear. “It’s not so bad.” He breathes deeply, his chest expanding at her back. She wiggles against him, enveloped in his body. It almost feels like she could withdraw into it, become lost there.

For a few minutes, they just lie peacefully, eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other. His breath is warm and even, tickling the hair at her neck.

But soon, it travels, the steady stream moving with his lips as they press softly against her skin, first to her ear then drifting down, following the curve until he reaches tender flesh just above her collarbone.

“You’re not tired?” She tilts her head.

“I’m a little tired.” His lips travel up her neck. “But I’m also distracted.”

She smiles, tucking her chin.

“Well, I’m sorry to be so distracting.”

“No, you’re not,” he whispers in her ear.

He adjusts his arms, a hand moving over her body, slipping under her shirt at the bottom, seeking the warmth of her stomach. His breath changes, less steady now, heavy on the exhales. 

Rey shifts, turning onto her back.

He lifts a little, propping on a forearm.

She gazes up at him, taking a moment to study his features, the angle of his jaw, his full lips, dark locks falling over his face, black eyes with hint of fire. The light of the crystals casts a soft glow from above, giving him an otherworldly look, like he’s in a dream.

She lifts a hand, brushing back a lock of his hair. Then she curls her fingers behind his neck, pulling him down.

They connect, sweet kisses blending softly as he slips a hand under her hip, sliding up the curve of her back. Her heart quickens at his touch, the way she tingles as he travels across her skin.

They’re both smiling as they connect again and again, enjoying the closeness, the shared warmth. They start to build heat, her fingers weaving through his hair as their kisses grow hotter, hungrier. She grips his dark locks, the other hand at his shoulder, feeling the thickness of his muscles. He opens his mouth into hers, gripping the flesh at her hip.

Suddenly, he pulls back, the flame of desire tempered by a realization. He breathes heavily, glancing from side to side, a bit self-conscious.

“What?” She knits her eyebrows.

He lifts his head, looking around the cavern.

“Isn’t it…” He struggles to catch his breath. “A little…” He narrows his eyes at the wall. “ _Weird_ to do this in front of the crystals?” 

Rey lets out a laugh.

“Ben…” She giggles. “ _Trust me_. The crystals aren’t watching us now any more than they normally do.”

“Are you sure?” He eyes them suspiciously.

“ _Yes_. They see so much all the time that they barely have a sense of their physical location. To them, they’re not here but _everywhere_.”

“Hm…” He looks thoughtful now. “That must be overwhelming.”

“Not really.” She shakes her head. “They’re used to it. They see this way from the moment they come into being, all of time and space stretched out before them.” She gazes at the crystals scattered across the ceiling. “They are the universe,” she whispers reverently. “They make me feel very small.” 

She senses him darken. She looks back to find him staring at her, eyebrows knitted.

“ _You_ …” He brushes a strand of her hair. “ _Are not_ small.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she says quickly. “Just the opposite. Being part of the collective, seeing the way the crystals do…” She glances at the clusters, growing distant. “It’s given me perspective at exactly the time I needed it.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs.

“Things…” She takes a breath. “Have been hard lately. This escape network we’re trying to build just can’t get off the ground. My team is so massive they’re becoming hard to manage, all these little subgroups and missions. It’s _so easy_ to get wrapped up in it, to feel like the whole galaxy will _implode_ if I can’t get things right.” She widens her eyes.

But soon she softens, her lips turning up.

 

“But it won’t.” She shakes her head. “It never does. No matter my successes or failures, the galaxy will go on, life will go on. In the grand scheme of things, my struggles are just a speck, just another star in the darkness.” She grunts, smiling. “It gives me a strange sense of peace.” She gazes at the crystals. After a moment, she looks to Ben.

His eyes are flickering, confused, a little critical, but also… awed.

She lifts a palm to his face, stroking his cheek with a thumb. He gazes down at her, softening at her touch. He lifts a hand, taking hers into his and bringing it to his lips to kiss the backs of her fingers. He closes his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them, he has a strange look, tender but uncertain. It’s like he’s debating with himself, deciding whether or not to say something. He releases her hand, letting it fall. She sits up a little, curious but sensing his need to process. He stares at her silently, and she stares back, waiting.

“I…” His eyes tighten, pained.

But it’s that beautiful pain, the kind that only hurts because it’s so heavy.  

“I…” He exhales slowly. He brings a hand to her face, caressing her cheek.

“I love you.”

Rey falls back on the pillows, surprised.

“I know.” She nods reassuringly.

“I know you know.” He looks down. “But…” He looks back at her softly. “I wanted you to hear me say it.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, her heart skips a beat. She catches her breath, unable move or speak, only look at him, look into his eyes, feel his emotions, that weight crushing down on him, everything he feels about her, all the love and tenderness, his heart so full it could burst.

She remembers the first time she felt him this way, in this very cave. She remembers his black eyes, so bright and expressive, his voice, confident and knowing, telling her she’s special.

It starts to wash over her, every memory of every tender moment, everything he is, everything could be, everything he makes her feel, how much she wants him, _yearns_ for him, _aches_ for him.

She shoots up, taking his lips hungrily, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you.” She can barely speak between kisses. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, meeting her passion with his own, taking her in, slipping a hand under her shirt, seeking warm flesh.

She wraps her legs around him, gripping his hair, gripping his shoulder, opening her mouth into his.

They lose themselves in the moment, surrendering to the call of their bodies, the call of their hearts. They grasp and grab at each other, taking what they want and not thinking twice.

They’re so focused on each other that they don’t notice it, don’t see the cavern growing brighter, the crystals starting to shimmer.

They’re whispering furiously, debating, talking over each other.

There’s so much to discuss.

Change is coming, and it’s coming _soon_. There’s rough road ahead, of course. Change is never easy…

But the pain will be worth it, the suffering a natural, necessary step on the way to the end.

Or the beginning. As far as the crystals are concerned, those two words are synonyms.

 _Yes_ , the universe is about to shift. Tonight brought them that much closer.

The mold-breakers are merging, starting to take their shape. It’s going to be so, so beautiful…

And they _can’t wait_ for everyone else to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I really appreciate your patience and understanding with the slowdown in updates. I’ve got a few rough weeks ahead, so I’ll be giving myself until April 12th to upload the next chapter. Then, I should get back to updating every two weeks! 
> 
> For my precious, regular commenters, you guys mean the world to me. When I’m feeling weary and like writing just isn’t worth the work, I think about you— how much loyalty I feel to you, how much I want to make you proud— and I rally. You seriously make this all worth it and I’m grateful for every word of encouragement you choose to share. 
> 
> Also, if you like the story and feel lead, I’ve been nominated for the 2019 Reylo Fic Rec Awards in the categories of “Best Characterization in Canon Fanfiction” and “Best WIP Canon Fanfiction.” It’s an honor (and a surprise) just to be nominated. If you’re enjoying the story enough to vote for it, here’s a link: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeD8Lv_qWma5XXrMeR_SfE1hxTo2msk9GGBKNuWF7S4StVIUw/viewform.  
> Check it out if only to see recs for Reylo stories off your radar!


	35. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey and Daja attempt to make an ally for their escape network.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, there's a mature version of this chapter. Just click "Next Work" above to read it.

The Devaronian glances at his cards.

He has two— an eight and a ten— cradled in both hands. They’re slanted down so only he and his company can see them.

Daja sits to his right, her forearms resting on the table. She leans in, looking at the cards then at the silver-robed man sitting across from them.

He’s smirking, like he’s already won.

Rey sits to the left, scanning the table coolly. Everyone’s out of the game except their host and this slimy-looking merchant, cropped white hair slicked back, blue eyes twinkling smugly.

Yet, just under the confidence is a twinge of fear and a kind of grating, like something’s going up when it should be going down. It feels like a lie…

Rey starts to lean in.

But Daja beats her to the punch.   

“He’s bluffing,” she whispers in their host’s ear.

The Devaronian squints, red skin wrinkling around his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.” Daja’s lips twist up. “I always know when someone’s bluffing.”

Their host stares at his cards. Then he nods, thick horns catching the light. He sits up, squaring his shoulders.

“I’ll see your raise…” He reaches for a stack of chips, lifting it gingerly and casting it on the pile. “And I’ll raise you fifty more.” He slides another stack towards the pot, the chips cascading over it.

For a split second, the merchant twitches.

But he regains composure quickly, that smooth, angled face becoming blank. He stares coolly at their host.

Then he shoots forward, pushing the rest of his chips into the pot. He sneers, sitting back.

The Devaronian widens his eyes. He looks down at his own chips, calculating what’s left. There’s just enough… _barely_.  

He glances from side to side, trying to decide what to do.

“ _Trust me_ ,” Daja whispers, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know this game, and I know when someone’s lying. I can practically _smell it_.” She nods to the merchant. “This guy’s playing you, and it’s time to call him on his shit.”

The Devaronian sucks in a breath, drumming thick fingernails on the table. He stares at his remaining chips.

Finally, he pushes out an exhale.

“You better be right, girl,” he mutters, sitting up.

“I’m always right.” Daja flashes a smile.

Their host shakes his head, but his lips are turned up. He leans in, pushing his remaining chips into the pot.

“Alright, _skinny man_.” The Devaronian leans back, crossing his arms. “Let’s see what makes you so confident.”  

The silver-robed merchant glares, upper lip twitching. He stiffens, reaching for his cards. He turns one over slowly.

A ten.

Rey holds her breath, eyes fixed on the merchant.

He turns over another.

An eleven.

She feels a cold pang of fear rip through their host. She glances over and notices his hands are shaking.

But Daja looks completely relaxed, sitting back casually, smoothing the fabric of her purple gown.

The merchant turns over his last card. The entire table gasps the instant it’s revealed.

A six.

Daja snickers, wiggling as she sits up. She winks at their host.

There’s a swell in his chest now. He’s smiling greedily, revealing rows of yellow teeth.

The merchant bombed out. He didn’t just have a bad hand but a _terrible_ one.

Their host reaches for his cards, turning both of them over with a flair. The table erupts in light clapping, the players nodding in approval.

“Good game.” A short Sullustan bobs. “Good game.”

“The Devaronian wins.” The dealer announces, gesturing broadly to their host.

The merchant fumes, his face growing red.

“We’ll take a short break, then resume in ten minutes.” The dealer clasps her hands lightly. “Be sure to visit the bar for some refreshment.”

The players begin shuffling, rising from the table in waves. The silver-robed man shoots out of his chair so fast it topples over. He doesn’t bother picking it up, just whips around and stomps out of the casino.

The Devaronian chuckles as he leaves.

“My dear…” He turns to Daja. “ _You_ are a gem.” He taps her nose with a long, curled fingernail. “Are you sure you can’t stay? I could have use for a clever girl like you.”

Daja grins, leaning forward. Their host stares shamelessly down the front of her dress.

“You know, I’d _love to_ ,” Daja croons. “But I can’t abandon the boss.” She nods to Rey. “You’re not the only one who needs clever girls.”

“Hmm.” The Devaronian slumps. “Well, I’ll just have to make good use of you while I can, won’t I?” He pinches Daja’s cheek.

She giggles, jutting her chest out.

It’s all Rey can do not to roll her eyes.

“I’d say that last round earned you the most _expensive_ drink on Canto Bight.” Their host pats the table. “Tell me, dear, have you ever had Ipellrilla firewater?”

“Ipell-what?” Daja tilts her head.

Rey can’t stop herself this time, rolling her eyes so hard it hurts. She watched Daja down _six cups_ of firewater not _two weeks ago_. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” The Devaronian shakes his head. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had firewater. And _this_ casino…” He rises from his chair. “Carries a rare stock of it— _completely_ proprietary, no one else in the galaxy has it.” He adjusts his dress coat, smiling. “Shall I order us both a glass?”

“To start.” Daja winks.

Their host shakes his head, amused.

“Feeling adventurous, are we?”

Daja just grins, sticking the tip of her tongue out.

“Alright, my dear.” He pats her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.” He begins walking to the bar.

But he halts after two steps. He turns back, eyes on Rey like he just realized she was there.

“Would you…?” He points to her awkwardly. “Like something as well?”

“No, thanks.” She gives him a tight smile.

“Ah.” He nods, a little uncomfortable. Then he turns, walking away. Daja shifts in her chair, watching him go.

“Hey Rey…” She leans back, eyeing their host. “Why don’t you go back to the Falcon?”

“Huh?”

“Listen.” She swings around. “You know I think of you like a sister, so it’s coming from a place of love when I tell you…” She scrunches her face. “You’re terrible at this.”

Rey jerks back.

“Terrible at what?”

“ _Schmoozing_.” Daja widens her eyes. “Flirting, being charming, buttering someone up.”

Rey sighs, crossing her arms.

“It’s…” Daja grunts. “A good thing, really. You’re just so honest. You can’t be anyone but you. But right now, it’s dragging us down, and we _need_ this.” She leans in. “You said it yourself. We _have_ to get a safe house on Canto Bight if this escape network’s ever gonna work, and _this guy_ ,” she sticks a thumb to the bar, “Is our _best shot_.”

Rey sucks in a breath.

“I don’t like him.” She shakes her head. “He’s a _weasel_.”

“Who owns half the storehouses on this planet.” Daja makes a circular motion with a finger. “We _need_ him, Rey. We need his space and we need his influence, and in order to get it, we have to play his little game. We have to let him take us out and flirt…” She shimmies her shoulders. “And bat our eyelashes and wear his stupid dresses.” She flings the fabric of her gown.

Rey sighs, looking down at her own dress.

“I feel naked,” she mutters.

“You look _great_.” Daja pats her knee. “But you’re being a downer, and I need you to get outta here, so I can lock this in.”

Rey furrows her eyebrows. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving Daja alone…

“Rey,” Daja says dryly. “I’ve got this guy wrapped around my little finger. Let me _do this_.” She leans in. “Go back to the Falcon. You’ve had a long week, and you’re only gonna hold me back if you stay.”

Rey slumps, staring down.

“Ok.” She starts to nod. “Ok.” She looks up. “But be careful, will you?”

Daja snorts.

“You should tell _him_ to be careful.” She nods to the bar. “Once you get caught in my web, you don’t get out.” She squints with a glimmer.

Rey can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright.” She shakes her head, rising from the chair. “Then, try to go easy on him.”

“We’ll see how I’m feeling.” Daja sits back. “You know what firewater does to me.”

“Your limit is two.” Rey dips her chin.

“How about three?”

“How about _one_?”

The women stare at each other, unblinking.

Daja leans forward.

“Two and a half.”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She grabs her pouch hanging over the chair. “Do what you want.” She brings the strap overhead. “But I’m not staying up to take care of you this time.”  

Daja scoffs.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Uh huh.” Rey adjusts the strap. “Sure, you don’t.” 

Daja looks away, a little sheepish. She straightens, turning to the table.

“Run along, now.” She shoos her flippantly. “The adults are staying up late tonight.”

Rey shakes her head.

“Not _too_ late, ok?” She starts to turn.

But suddenly, she stops, shifting back.

Daja’s leaning over the table now, arranging the Devaronian’s chips into stacks.

“Good call, by the way.”

Daja looks up.

“On the merchant.” Rey tilts her head. “How did you know he was bluffing?”

She grunts.

“I _always_ know.” Daja turns back to the chips. “I’ve got gambler’s genes. The only good thing my father gave me.”

Rey purses her lips. She opens her mouth to say something but stops.  

Daja’s attention is fixed on the table. She appears focused, but Rey senses she’s not, growing uncomfortable under her regard. There’s something else too, something she can’t quite put her finger on…

Rey watches for a moment.

Finally, she backs away.

“See you on the Falcon.”

“See you.” Daja barely looks up.

Rey turns, heading for the exit. She weaves around tables and chairs, dodging casino guests as they stumble around, sloshing their drinks.

Two women are whispering by the arched opening. One points to Rey and the other looks over, raising an eyebrow. She scans her appreciatively, lips twisting into a sly smile. She tries to catch her eye but Rey just ignores her, moving quickly to the deck.   

Once outside, she sighs, looking down at herself. 

This outfit’s ridiculous. It barely counts as clothes. She could have _died_ when the Devaronian gave it to her.

It’s deep red and strapless, tight around the torso, flowing at the hips. The top part is _see through_ except for at her bosom, wispy, gold designs crawling up the back and front. There’s a long slit down the lower half, exposing her right leg. The worst part is that she didn’t have any other shoes so she’s still wearing her boots, brown and grungy.

She’s felt self-conscious all night, desperately trying to cover her bare leg with the flimsy fabric.

She _can’t wait_ to get this thing off.

She picks up her pace, barreling down the steps to the next floor. She looks up at the night sky, stars twinkling across a black canopy covering the ocean. At least it’s beautiful here… That’s the one thing this place has going for it.

She sighs as she thinks back to the Devaronian, the way he wrinkled his nose at the slaves when he took them to visit the fathiers. And he’s what counts as a humanitarian around here…

She rolls her eyes.

Her mind drifts to the Sabacc game, _the money_ these people will throw away for fun while surrounded by some of the most destitute souls in the galaxy. She thinks about the size of the pot, the easy laughs as guests tossed in chips upon chips upon chips. She remembers the silver-robed merchant, the way he fumed when he lost everything.

And her thoughts shift to Daja.

Rey slows, meandering to the rail at the edge of the deck, extending a hand to run along its surface.

It was quite a call, catching the man’s bluff. He was very good at hiding it, hardly showed the slightest sign of weakness.

She looks down, replaying the scene in her mind. She remembers what Daja said about having gambler’s genes.

It’s possible. Some people just seem to have a sixth sense. Finn’s like that sometimes, so intuitive, one of the only people who can tell when she’s putting on a front. Maybe Daja’s like him, just has a natural way of reading what others work so hard to hide.

But there are other things…

Like the way she fights. Her reaction time is _insanely_ fast, faster than anyone she trains with. It’s like she can sense every move before her opponent makes it. There’s only one other person Rey’s fought who can do that…

She drums her fingers on the rail, then pushes away from it, picking up speed. She makes a mental note to ask Ben about this the next time she sees him. Surely there’s some way to tell whether or not someone’s Force-sensitive...

Her lips turn up.

And just like that, her mind is consumed with thoughts of Ben. She thinks about his handsome face, his kind eyes. She remembers the last time she saw him, just two days ago on Llanic, the way he grabbed her _the moment_ Sylas left the room, how he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

They didn’t have much of a debriefing this time. Not that they needed to. Things went off without a hitch— the bombs diffused, the rescues out of the mines before the battle ended. They’ve got a nice little system going. It’s working well, _quite_ well…   

She surges with satisfaction, picturing the scene, curled up with Ben in his quarters. She recalls asking him about Starkiller, why he thinks he needs it. She remembers the look on his face, the feeling in his heart, when she challenged him to build his rule on respect rather than fear.

Her smile deepens.

She barrels down another flight of stairs, oblivious to the guests strolling around her. She moves quickly, a skip in her step.  

 _Yes_. Yes, yes, yes.

They’re getting closer. She can _feel_ it. He’s starting to see, see what the bond’s _really_ about, that they’re destined to end this war without shedding a drop of blood.

It’s going to happen. It’s _been_ happening. His leadership has changed so much over the past year, his priorities, the way he makes decisions. He’s transforming the First Order into something else, a government, less interested in war, more interested in diplomacy.

There are still problems, of course. But the Resistance can work with that. They can negotiate rather than destroy, get justice for the galaxy another way.

Suddenly, Rey darkens, her heart dropping. She pushes past a throng of guests on the way to the landing deck. She strides into an expansive lot, rows of ships stretching out before her. She walks swiftly between them, luxury models towering high.

She crosses her arms, pushing out an exhale.

She stopped by headquarters yesterday, finally got a chance to talk with Leia. She told her about the crystals, the vision, what she thinks it means, the prospect of finding a diplomatic solution to the war.

And… she didn’t react how Rey expected. 

She thought she’d be _thrilled_. Leia’s a peacemaker at heart, and she’s _dying_ to see her son again. Rey assumed she’d jump at the chance to meet him at the negotiating table, find a way to end this conflict without destroying him and everything he’s built.

And she _was_ excited.

At first.

When Rey described the vision, Leia listened intently, that spark of hope in her chest, how much she _yearns_ for reconciliation, for peace, not only for her son but for the galaxy. 

But after Rey finished, she grew quiet. She pictures the image in her mind, Leia sitting back in her chair, eyes dark with thought. She spent what felt like _forever_ processing everything Rey told her, staring at the console, an index finger at her lip. And the more she thought, the more Rey sensed the shift, hope tempering to wariness. 

Finally, she sat up, dropping her hand.

“Rey…” She started slowly. “Tell me.” She pursed her lips. “When you imagine this diplomatic solution, what it will look like, what do you see?”

“I…” Rey’s shoulders dropped. “I imagine a negotiation, both sides coming together to hash things out, find a middle ground.”

“And…” Leia narrowed her eyes. “How long do you think that would take?”

“Uh…” Rey looked up. “A few months. Maybe a year.”

“A year, huh?”

“You…” Rey shifted uncomfortably. “Think it would take longer?”   

Leia tsked.

 “I think…” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “That I’ve overseen a lot of negotiations in my time. _A lot_. Some between parties with bitter differences like those between the Resistance and the First Order. Do you know what they look like?”

Rey just stared, her hands in her lap.

“They’re _long_.” Leia widened her eyes. “They can take _years_. And they’re hard. Things get ugly. More than once…” She sighed. “I’ve seen them end in violence. It’s a little-known irony about negotiation.” Her lips twisted grimly. “Sometimes all it does is highlight differences, harden the conviction that fighting is the only way to resolve them. Negotiation can hasten a war as easily as it can prevent one.”

At this, Rey sunk in her chair. 

“Rey.” Leia leaned forward, her eyes gentle. “I’m not saying I don’t think it’s possible. I’m not saying I won’t help you.” She placed a hand on her knee. “You _know_ I believe in you. You _know_ I think you and my son are destined to play a crucial role in this war.” Rey could feel Leia’s pride, see it reflected in her eyes.

But soon, her face fell. She sat back, growing solemn.

“But if we’re going explore the possibility of negotiating with the First Order rather than fighting them, I need you to think about the bigger picture.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that this war is about more than you and Ben.” Leia dipped her chin. “It’s about General Hux. It’s about the rest of the First Order, how they’re responding to my son’s leadership. Based on our intel, he’s in a delicate position right now. Opening negotiations with us might not be the wisest decision.”

Rey looked down.

“And we have to think about people on our side too, hardliners like Poe and Madani who won’t accept anything less than the total dismantling of the First Order.” Leia leaned in. “There are many players on the board, Rey, and we have to consider how they’ll react to our actions.”

“But, we can convince them.” Rey shot forward. “We can show them there’s another way, a _better_ one. If they could just see what the First Order is becoming, the kind of leader Ben can be, who he _really_ is.” She widened her eyes. “I can convince him to shut down Starkiller, I _know_ I can.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Leia nodded. “But even if you could, you know our qualms with the First Order extend _far_ beyond Starkiller.”

Rey sighed, crossing her arms.

“Even the so-called good things they’re doing have another side the them. For example…” Leia paused. “Take what my son told you about why he’s hoarding the galaxy’s resources.”

“To prevent future wars.” Rey sat up. “It’s a good idea, building a foundation for peace.”

“True…” Leia said carefully. “But what do you think Madani would say to that?”

Rey pushed out an exhale.

“Probably…” She shifted a little. “Something about the dangers of monopolies.”

“ _Exactly._ ”

Rey twitched, tightening her arms.

“And what about the fact that the First Order is only in power because it _destroyed_ the previous government along with _billions_ of lives?” Leia raised an eyebrow. “No matter what good they do, they can’t erase the past. People still want justice for Hosnian. They want the First Order to answer for their actions, and they’re _right_ to do so.”

Rey bristles, cringing at the memory. She shakes her head, returning her focus to the present. She looks up and around, catching her bearings.

Ah. There it is. The Falcon’s straight ahead, near the back of the deck.

It’s not like it’s hard to find. It sticks out like a sore thumb, a dinky, scraped-up freighter surrounded by luxury ships.

Rey reaches into her pouch, searching for the remote. She slows as she approaches, still scrounging. Finally, she finds it buried at the bottom. She presses the button as she pulls it out.

The Falcon creaks open, the ramp lowering to the ground. Rey grabs the strap of her pouch, bringing it overhead as she hops on the ramp. She ascends into the ship, closing it behind her and shoving the remote back in her pouch. She drops it on the floor, immediately turning to the lounge.

She sinks on the edge of the seat by the hologame table, bringing a boot up. She starts to untie it, her fingers moving quickly. She tries to focus on the moment, the comfort of the ship, the opportunity for some much-needed rest.

But she still hears Leia’s voice in her head.

Rey jerks at the heel of her boot, pulling hard. She moves to the other one, her shoulders tense and rigid. She yanks it off, casting it to the side, not seeing where it lands. She pulls off her socks, then scoots back on the lounge, drawing her knees into her chest. She furrows her eyebrows, staring ahead.

For a minute, she doesn’t move. She just stares, arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

Finally, she lets out an exhale. She shifts, propping her feet on the table, the slit of her dress falling open. She crosses her arms, resting against the lounge.

Part of her is angry, frustrated with Leia’s response.

Couldn’t she have been just a _little more_ encouraging? This is about _her son_. Shouldn’t she be willing to do _anythin_ g to get him back?

But it seems she can’t separate her feelings as a mother from her work with the Resistance. She considers everything in context of how it affects her leadership— her mission, her goals.

She’s like Ben in this way.

Or he’s like her.

Rey sighs, her arms falling to her side.

As much as she _hates_ that Leia dumped cold water all over her hopes for the future…

She knows she’s right. The more she thinks about it— Poe, Madani, Finn, everything they hate about the First Order, everything it still is even as it’s becoming something else…

Trying to end this war through negotiation will be tough. _Very_ tough.

It can be done. She knows it, feels it in her heart, that _this_ is what breaking the mold means— showing the galaxy how to make peace even through the bitterest differences.

But, it’ll be a process. A long one. And _hard_. Things will get worse before they get better…

Rey sinks, closing her eyes.

It’s painful. The uncomfortable truth.

She’d been feeling _so good_ since meeting Ben the kyber cave. They’ve never been closer— never more intimate, never more open, never more understanding. She felt like they were on the verge, just a few steps from the end, _this close_ to achieving their destiny.

But after meeting with Leia, it feels far away again, this future where she and Ben become what they were meant to be.

Part of her wants to shove reality to the side, just focus on the happiness of the moment, how right it feels to be close to him. Can’t she just let it all fall away, hide in the comfort of their connection, the way he makes her feel?

She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants this _so badly_ it feels like her insides are burning.

Wait…

No.

That’s something else.

Rey’s eyes fly open.

She shoots up, snapping her feet from the table. She concentrates on her core, that warmth stretching out and into her limbs. She focuses for a moment, makes sure she’s not fooling herself with wishful thinking.

Soon, her lips turn up.

She takes a deep breath, basking in the unmistakable. 

She scoots to the edge of the lounge, searching, impatient for the sight of him. She looks left, then right.

Suddenly, the room is full of him, his feelings washing over her, excitement and eagerness intensifying her own.  She snaps to the technical station to find him standing in front of it.

His eyes are on her, a smile on his lips.

She stands, turning to face him. The moment she does, his eyes widen.

At first, she knits her eyebrows, confused.

Then she remembers.

Oh right. She’s still wearing that stupid dress.

“ _Don’t_ say anything.” She lifts a finger.

“I…” He turns his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He steps forward, scanning her body.

She shakes her head, her cheeks growing warm.

He moves towards her, and she puts a hand on her hip, trying to catch his eye.

But he’s still looking down.

“It’s not like I would _choose_ something like this.” She gestures to herself. “I had to accept my host’s hospitality, no matter how self-serving.”

“Uh huh.” He halts, staring down the front of her dress.

Her cheeks are on fire now. She tries not to smile, but the effort does nothing except make her face hurt.

“It’s not like I have any _use_ for it. I’ll probably get rid of it after tonight.”

“No, no.” He slips a hand behind her waist. “I think you should keep it.” He descends, pulling her close.

She can’t stop smiling as his lips connect with hers. He grips her tightly, an arm around her back, a hand cupping the nape of her neck. She brushes away a lock of his hair, melting into him. They build heat quickly, their mouths opening into each other, his hands searching, moving along the curves of her body.

Suddenly, he pulls back and before she realizes his intention, she’s off her feet and he’s striding out of the lounge with her in his arms.

“Whoa.” She clings to him. “Ben, do you even know where you’re going?”

“Please.” He grunts. “I know this ship like the back of my hand.”

“Um…” She glances at the bunks as they pass. “It’s kind of a mess back here.”

“Well then.” He follows the curve of the hall. “You’re maintaining the tradition of keeping this place a shithole.” He stops in front of the captain’s quarter’s, pressing the panel with an elbow. “Is there still Wookie hair on everything?”

“Not as much as there used to be.” She looks around the room as he enters. “But there’s a lot of Porg feathers in the circuits.”

He knits his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, heading straight for the bed.

Rey glances around self-consciously, eyeing the twisted sheets, the dirty clothes flung every which-a-ways.

But Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He throws her on the bed, then crawls on top of her, pulling her with him as he moves back. He has that hungry look as he pins both her arms, capturing her lips with his. For a moment, she just surrenders, melting into this feeling of being wanted _so badly_. He slides a hand down her arm to her chest, stopping at the bosom, feeling warm flesh covered by thin fabric.

She weaves her fingers through his hair, wrapping a leg around him, the slit of her dress falling open. He moves his hand over curves of her body, down to her hip, then her bare thigh. He grips the skin just under her backside, grinding against her.

She grips dark locks of his hair as he takes her hungrily, again and again, his hand sliding down the back of her thigh then up again. His lips start to travel, moving along the curve of her jaw to her neck, then her chest.

“You should definitely…” He kisses the tops of her breasts. “ _Definitely_ …” He runs his hand over sheer fabric hugging her torso. “Keep this dress.”

Rey smiles, lifting her head.

“I guess it’s not so bad.”

He shoots forward, pinning her arms.

“It’s _sinful_ ,” he whispers in her ear. “You’re a damn hazard. Just _the sight_ of you could cause a galactic incident.”

“I suppose I should stay here, then. Keep from causing trouble.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” He pulls back, shaking his head. “I have you right where I want you.” He presses her forearms to the mattress.

She juts her chin up as if to challenge this, but doesn’t struggle. They both know she’s right where she wants to be.

For a moment, he just stares at her, eyes softening. He moves a hand to her cheek, brushing aside a strand of her hair.

“I miss you.” He caresses her skin. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

She stifles a laugh.

“You _literally_ saw me two days ago.”

“That long?” He tilts his head.

She giggles.

His lips turn up as he descends.

“I need to schedule more invasions.” He kisses soft skin next to her ear. “Get you on the shuttle more often.”

“Please don’t.” She widens her eyes. “I can barely keep up as it is.”

He just grunts.

“By the way…” She sits up a little, wriggling her arm free.

He releases it, pulling back.

“I debriefed the team after we left, and guess what?”

“What?”

“Not a _single person_ saw one of the troopers abuse the rescues.” She smiles, propping on her elbows.

“Good.” He nods, tracing the curve of her waist.

“It was a _huge_ improvement from Kaddak. What did you do?”

“Made a new rule.” He shrugs. “You get what you give.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he says absently, eyes drifting over her body. “If a trooper hurts one of slaves, he gets the exact same thing done to him, with the punishment doled out by me.” He descends, kissing her neck.

“That’s… a bit extreme.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Hm.” She narrows her eyes.

“Rey.” He pulls up. “I don’t want to talk about Llanic. I want to talk about this dress.” He grips her hip, scanning her body. “And how you need more like it.”

“Yes,” she says dryly. “Because I have so many occasions to wear a dress.”

“Is this not an occasion?”

“I suppose it is.” She brushes his hair back, smiling.

“Good.” He grips the flesh under her thigh. “Then, let’s enjoy it.” He captures her lips, pulling her up the bed. 

Suddenly, she hisses, a sharp pain at her back.

“What’s wrong?” He pulls away.

“Uh…” She lifts her shoulder, reaching behind it. She pulls one of Daja’s hair pins from the sheets. “Nothing.” She tosses the pin from the bed, then looks at Ben. “Now, where were we?” She wraps her arms around him.

But she immediately jerks back.

“Oh!” She moves her palms to his chest. “Before I forget, I need to ask you something.”

“ _Right now?_ ” He groans. “Can’t it wait?”

“If I don’t ask now, I won’t remember later.”

He rolls his eyes, descending to kiss her neckline.

“Come on,” she whines. “It’s just a quick, simple question.”

“Rey.” His lips move down. “I’m busy.”

She shakes her head but can’t help smiling.

“ _Ben_ …” She runs her fingers through his hair then grips a chunk of it, pulling up.

He sighs, shifting forward.

“Fine.” He plants a forearm on the mattress, hovering over her. “What’s your question?”

She takes a breath.

“How…?” She purses her lips. “Can you tell if someone’s Force-sensitive?”

“Rey...” He twitches. “That is _not_ a simple question.”

“Then, just give me the short answer.”

“I…” His eyes flit up. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. There are varying degrees of Force-sensitivity, and it’s more prevalent in some races than others.”

“But…” She sits up a little. “Is there something unique about Force-sensitives, like a kind of mark or a sign?”

“Yes,” he deadpans. “They all have halos.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious, Ben. Is there not some way to tell a Force-sensitive when you see one, something about their manner, their nature, or a feeling of some sort, like a particular energy?”

“Sure,” he says dryly. “They carry the sense of the universe about them yet bask in their unimportance. Happy now?” He descends.

But Rey pushes him away, flying upright.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just some stupid limerick.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, pushing her to the mattress.

But she grabs his wrist, flinging him from her and scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Rey…?”

She hops up and heads for the door.

“Rey…?”

She presses the panel, then walks into the hall.

“Rey, where are you going?”   

She ignores him, charging to the lounge. She moves quickly, straight past the table to the technical station. She crouches in front of it, sliding a drawer open.

“Rey!” Ben calls from the hall, footsteps approaching. “What’s going on?”

She reaches into the drawer, scooping up what she’s come for in a single motion. She rises, turning around.

Ben enters the lounge, looking confused.  

“Rey…?”

She doesn’t answer, just charges straight to the table, dropping her load on top of it.

He tilts his head, suddenly _very_ curious.

“What’s this?” He reaches for the musty stack of books.

“ _These_ …” She places a hand on top of them. “Are the Jedi texts. And what you just said is in one of them.”

“ _What!?_ ” He instantly sits down, sliding across the seat. He stares at the books, transfixed. “Rey…” He reaches for the stack but seems hesitant to touch it. “Where did you get these?” He places his hands carefully on either side.

“Uh…” She shifts a little. “I borrowed them from the Jedi temple on Ahch-To.”

He looks up, narrowing his eyes.

“Fine.” She puts a hand on her hip. “I stole them. It’s not like Skywalker was doing anything with them.”

He grunts, sliding the texts towards him. He has that look in his eyes now, a boyish excitement like someone just gave him a new toy.

“These…” He places a hand on the stack. “Are _extremely_ rare documents.” He removes the book at the top, placing it on the table. “Where have you been keeping them?”

“Just…” She gestures to the technical station. “In that drawer over there.”

He snaps up.

“You’re _kidding_ ,” he spits. “Rey, that _is not_ the proper way to store documents like these. They’re delicate. You should give them to the First Order.”

“Oh, yeah _?_ ” She crosses her arms. “So, you can what? Burn them?”

“ _No_.” He jerks back. “So, we can _preserve_ them, maintain them properly.”

“But, why?” She knits her eyebrows. “I thought you hated the Jedi, wanted to wipe all evidence of their existence from the galaxy?”

“That....” He twitches. “Was Snoke. He’s the one who hated the Jedi. I…” His jaw tightens. “I just…” He stares that the books, tense and rigid. “I just hated Skywalker.”

Rey softens, uncrossing her arms.

“But he’s dead now.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t see any reason not to study the Jedi, if only to learn from their mistakes.” He slips a finger under the cover of the book, opening it.

“Well, good luck.” She turns her head. “Those texts are complete nonsense.”

  

“Yeah?” He looks up. “How so?”

She walks to the other side of the table, taking a seat on the lounge.

“For one…” She sidles next to him. “They’re all written in different languages, some too old to translate.”

“First Order archives could help with that.”

“And for two…” She ignores him, extending a hand to the book.  “What I _have_ been able to translate is just…” She turns a page, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know. I thought they would have instructions of some sort, like how to do things through the Force, but instead it’s like…” She flits her head. “Poetry or something.”

He grunts like he’s not surprised.

“For example, that passage you just quoted…” She reaches for the brown book in the middle of the stack.

He hastily removes the ones on top of it, setting them to the side.

She starts rifling through the pages, searching. She feels Ben’s eyes on her, senses him growing anxious.

“Hey, Rey…” He looks over nervously. “Careful with those pages.”

She sighs.

She withdraws her hand, straightening, then sticks out an index finger, barely touching the edge of the page as she turns it _very_ slowly. She goes like this from page to page, taking several seconds to lift each one, then let it fall to the other side.

He’s not bothered by this. In fact, he’s seems perfectly fine with it.

She shakes her head, picking up her pace.

“Here.” She stops when she gets to the right page. “This is the full passage. I translated it a little differently from the way you said it, but it’s the same idea.”

He leans in.  

“It’s something like…” She points at the page. “A master is forever a student. A leader is forever a follower. To be one with the Force is to accept its contradictions, to hold the universe in your hands yet revel in your nothingness.”

Ben furrows his eyebrows.

“See?” She sits back. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Rey.” He shrugs. “I’m no Jedi.”

“But you heard that phrase or something like it _somewhere_.” She widens her eyes. “Where did you hear it? What was the context?”

He flinches, turning away.

“It’s…” He stares down. “Something a friend of Skywalker’s used to say.”

“What friend?” She perks up.

He shifts uncomfortably. She feels his heart sink to his stomach. It’s a familiar feeling, one she senses in him often…

Shame.

“Just…” He takes a breath. “Someone who’s not around anymore.  He wasn’t even Force-sensitive, but worshipped the Jedi, always spouting their philosophy.” 

Rey observes silently, her hands in her lap. Part of her wants to press him, find out more about this man and why he quoted this particular line.

But she decides against it, her heart heavy with the weight of his guilt.

“Well, what about this one.” She reaches for the book, flipping a couple of pages. She stops, pointing to a passage. “This one’s strange. I translated it like this.” She clears her throat. “All rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is never full. All trees grow, yet they never reach the sky. The wind is everywhere, yet can never be caught. To know wisdom is to accept these things and ponder them in your heart.”

“So…” She leans against the lounge. “What’s that? What does it mean?”

Ben’s lips twist wryly.

“It means whoever wrote it spent too much time in practiced solitude in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m serious, Ben.” She rolls her head against the seat. “You trained as a Jedi. Surely, you can tell me _something_.”

“I can tell you one thing.” He sits up. “The author of that passage _intended_ for it to be obscure, to be something the reader would have to reflect on and figure out.”

“But _why?_ ” She knits her eyebrows. “Isn’t the whole point of recording these things to preserve Jedi knowledge and pass it on? Wouldn’t the author _want_ to be as clear and straightforward as possible?”

He snorts.

“You don’t know the Jedi.” He shakes his head. “They were _never_ clear or straightforward. They spoke in riddles, almost like a code.”

“A code?”

“Yes.” He reaches for the open book, sliding it to him. “For the initiated, something only they can understand.”

“You mean other Jedi?”

He nods, scanning the page.

“The Jedi were very protective of their knowledge.” He turns carefully to the next one. “They were quite exclusive, especially in their later years.”

“What does that mean?”

“It _means_ …” He glances at her. “They were careful about who they accepted into their little club. Certain undesirables were kept out.”

“Like dark siders?”

“Or anyone they thought would be susceptible to it.” He turns another page. “Slaves, for example.”

“ _What!?_ ” She shoots up. “ _Why?_ ”

“They were thought to be particularly vulnerable to fear and anger. The Jedi would accept them if they were very young, but anyone who was old enough to remember being captive…” He tsks, turning his head.  

“But…” Rey sputters. “It’s not their fault they were treated so badly. If anyone deserved a second chance, an opportunity to get away from it all, it would be them.”

“I didn’t say I _agreed_ with it, Rey.” His eyes are still on the book. “I just said it’s what they did.”

She pushes out an exhale, crossing her arms.

“They would’ve turned you away too, you know.”

She snaps to him.

“They didn’t train Force-sensitives after a certain age.” He turns a page. “Maybe if you’d been found as a young child…”

She turns away, twitching. She leans against the lounge, eyebrows furrowed.

Ben grazes through the text, stopping every so often to examine a passage. 

Rey stares ahead, lost in her own mind, consumed by a prickly feeling under her skin.

She sighs, uncrossing her arms.

“What?” He glances at her.

“It’s just…” She sits up, eyeing the books. “The more I learn about the Jedi…” She scrunches her face. “The more I don’t like them.”

“Yes, well…” He flips a page. “They’re gone now, victims of their own hubris. All that’s left are remnants.” He pats the book. “Not unlike the Sith.”

She tilts her head.

“Were the Sith like the Jedi, exclusive, turning away slaves and such?”

“The Sith were even _more_ exclusive.” He widens his eyes. “For the longest time, only two of them were allowed to exist at once, the master and the apprentice.”

She raises her eyebrows.

He keeps his focus on the book, hovering over a passage.

She leans against the lounge, crossing her legs and pulling the fabric of her dress over her thigh. She rolls her head back, staring at the ceiling.

For a minute, they’re both silent, him studying the book, her staring into space.

“You know…” She sits up. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said in the kyber cave.”

“Oh yeah?” He turns a page. “Which part?” 

“Your interpretation of the vision, how you think we’re supposed to build a new understanding of the Force.”

He snaps up, giving her his full attention.

“I’ve been thinking about how we could do that.” She shifts to face him. “Create something new, something different from the Sith or the Jedi.”

“Like a new order?”

“Yes.” She nods. “But only after we explore.”

“What do you mean by _explore_?”

“Like…” She purses her lips. “Open a school? For Force-sensitives? Somewhere we can learn and grow and figure out what we want to be.”

“Hm.” He looks down. “Another academy, huh?”

“More like a haven.” She rests her forearms on the table. “A safe place without expectations or judgement where people like us can connect and learn from each other.” 

He stares down, eyebrows furrowed. She senses his wariness.

“It wouldn’t be anything like Skywalker’s academy.” She shakes her head. “Not if we don’t want it to be. _We’ll_ be in charge, the ones who make the rules.”   

“That could be…” His lips turn up. “Interesting.”

“And _fun_.”

He looks at her, a glint in his eye.

“Imagine it, Ben.” She scoots towards him. “A school run by _us_ , a place where we can experiment, _unrestrained_ , do all the things the Sith and Jedi never did.”

He leans against the lounge, eyes flickering.

“We could build something _completely_ different.” She leans in. “No exclusivity, no obscure texts—”

“No trials.” He sits up. “No murderous masters.”

“And slaves would be _welcomed_.” She widens her eyes. “Encouraged even.”

“The Knights could be part of it, maybe.” He brings a hand to his jaw. “I could re-train them.”

“Yes!” She brightens. “You could show them a new way, no dark side—”

“No light side.”

“Just the Force.”

He drops his hand, nodding.

“I like the sound of that.”

For a moment, he stares ahead, black eyes alive, visions of the future dancing across them. Then, he glances at her.

She squints with a glimmer.

He smiles, lifting a hand to her face and leaning in.

They connect softly.

“You know,” he murmurs, tracing her jaw. “If we were to do this, we’d have to come together, live at the school.”

“Well, of course.” Her lips graze his. “We’d be running things, after all.” She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

“We should keep it on the Supremacy, then.”

“Or _not_.” She pulls back, shooting him a look.

He sighs, withdrawing.

“We’ll…” He shifts away. “Have to work out the details.” He sits back. “It’s not like we’ll be doing this anytime soon.” He crosses his arms, staring down.

Rey turns forward, bringing her hands to her lap.

For a minute, they sit in silence.  

“Do you…?” She bows, closing her eyes. “Ever wish there was some way to jump through time, lightspeed to the part where we’ve finally figured everything out?”

“ _All the time_.” He articulates each word. 

“Me too.” She takes a breath. “I think about it more and more, imagining the future, what it might look like.” She opens her eyes. “It’s so much better than thinking about the present.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” he mutters.  

She purses her lips.

“How have things been for you, lately?” She nudges him. “With… Hux and everything?”

His jaw hardens.

“Same bullshit.”

“So, things aren’t getting any worse?”

“Rey.” He twitches, uncrossing his arms. “I don’t want to talk about this. I have to think about it enough as it is.”   

She nods, looking down. She senses him soften.

“What about you?”

She looks up.

“Are you more on top of things now, getting your network off the ground?”  

“Not exactly.” She stiffens.

He slides the open book in front of him to the side.

“Running into trouble?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“Yes.” She looks down.

“Like what?”

“Like…” She sighs. “A couple of weeks ago, a merchant who was _central_ to the escape route came to work to find her business burned to the ground.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“By a slaver?”

“Unconfirmed.” She crosses her arms. “But almost certainly, yes.”

“Can you find someone to replace her?” 

“That’s why we’re here.” She sits up. “Getting a safe house on Canto Bight would patch the gap, but…” She shakes her head. “Even if we did, it’s only a matter of time before it happens again, before someone else loses _everything_ because they’re helping us.” She sighs. “Then all the volunteers we’ve worked so hard to recruit will back out and the whole network will fall apart.” She droops.  

He watches silently. For a minute, he says nothing, just shares in her emotions, a heavy, defeated feeling.

But soon, she senses a shift.

She looks up.

His eyes are narrowed, something brewing in them.

“Have you…?” He purses his lips. “Considered a more aggressive strategy?”

She knits her eyebrows.

“I mean…” He straightens. “So far, your whole project has been about rescues, getting slaves away from their masters.”  

“Uh… yeah.” She shrugs. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Well, have you thought about coming at it a different way?”

“What way?”

“Like instead of rescuing slaves, maybe you should go after the slavers.”  

“You mean attack them?” She jerks back.

“ _Exactly_.” There’s a gleam in his eyes. “They’re the root of the problem, aren’t they?”

She looks down.

“And _they’re_ the ones who drew first blood, going after your allies. Maybe you should show them you don’t take that sort of thing lightly.”

“That…” She presses her lips together. “Could be a dangerous game. Violence invites violence, and I don’t want to start a war.”

“You don’t have to kill anyone.” He shakes his head. “You just have to hit them where it hurts.”

She glances up.

“Their _pockets_.” He leans in.

“Maybe…” She looks away, staring into space.

“It’s just an idea.” He slides his forearms from the table. “It’s your project, your call.”

She shifts in her seat, thinking. Soon, her eyes drift, scanning the Jedi texts strewn across the table.

“You could be right.” She leans over, reaching for an open book. “Maybe it’s time to take a different tact.” She slides it towards her, studying the yellowed pages. “Let old things die.” She snaps it closed.

“Don’t give up on these just yet.” He points to the texts. “There’s centuries of philosophy in here.” He taps the stack in front of him. “You never know what you might find.”

“Look at you…” She squints teasingly. “Defending the Jedi.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing the stack away.

She turns, scooting to the edge of the lounge.

“I think I’ll just rely on my instincts for now.” She rises. “I’ve learned a lot more doing that than I ever did from one of these.” She starts gathering the books.

“You’re not putting them back in that drawer, are you?” He shoots forward.

“Where else am I supposed to put them?”

“Don’t you have a safe box or something?” He waves around the ship. “Something air tight, free of contaminates?”

“ _No_.” Her eyes flit up. “Why would I have something like that?”

“For storing valuables, like _ancient_ , _irreplaceable_ documents.”

She sighs.

“Sorry.” She picks up the books. “No safe boxes here. But if it makes you happy, I’ll put them in one of the secret compartments.”

“What would make me happy is getting them _off_ this ship and into an archive.”

She rolls her eyes, turning to the main hall.

“I’m serious, Rey.” He calls as she walks away. “Those are delicate materials. They need to be kept safe, not shoved in a cargo hold and carted all over the damn galaxy.”

“Uh huh.” She shifts the books into the crook of her arm, crouching.

“Don’t just throw them in there. Put them in a container or something.”

“Of course.” She lifts part of the floor and drops the books in the opening.

“Do you have _any idea_ what’s been in those compartments?” She hears him scoot across the seat. “I once opened one to find it full of paddy frogs, slimy, writhing—”

“ _Ben!_ ” She groans, rising. She walks back into the lounge to find him perched on the edge of the seat, arms crossed.

“That was fast.” He narrows his eyes.

“Yes, well…” She puts a hand on her hip. “Those compartments are practically empty.”

He glares at her.

“You do know how disgusting this ship is, don’t you?” He dips his chin. “Half the galaxy’s scum tracked their grime _all over it_. No amount of _cleaning_ can get rid of all the—”

“You know what I think?” She interrupts, striding towards him.

“What?” He twitches.

She stops just in front of him.

“I think…” She lifts a knee, sliding it across the seat beside him.

He glances at her bare thigh peeking through the slit of her dress.

“That you need a more positive association with this ship.”

“Is that right?” He looks up.

“That’s right.” She crawls on top of him.

He widens his eyes, slipping his hands around her hips as she straddles him.

“What did you have mind?” He grips her flesh.

She just smiles, leaning in.

Her lips connect with his, soft and playful. She runs her fingers through his hair, squeezing gently with her thighs.

He pulls her in at the hips, his breath changing quickly, an even stream transforming to staccato exhales. Their blood rises, warm bodies pressed close, every subtle movement stoking that inner flame, the need to feel more, taste more.

They open their mouths into each other, their kisses growing hotter, hungrier. He slides a hand down her bare thigh then back up, slipping under the fabric of her dress.

Suddenly, he swings around, gripping her flesh and pulling down, pressing her groin to his. Her back is to the table now, the end of it just a few inches away. She scoots into him, gripping his hair as she kisses him passionately.

And just like that, everything starts to fall away, the ship, the crisp air, the tattered cover of the seat at her knees until there’s nothing but their bodies, their breath, their blood.

They become lost in the language of passion, panting and hot, wet kisses, a tangle of limbs and searching hands. They’re consumed in sensations, how much they crave the intimacy, how it seems to enclose them in a secret place, just for them.  

Suddenly, she pulls back, moving a hand to his cheek. His eyes search hers, growing gentle as he reads her.

She leans in, wrapping her arms around him, her lips at his ear. 

“I love you.”

She closes her eyes as she whispers the words.

“I love you.” He nuzzles her neck.

She squeezes her eyes shut, surrendering to every sensation, every nuance of closeness, emotional and physical.

Finally, she pulls back, sliding her palms to his chest.

For a moment, they just gaze at one another, lips turned up in knowing smiles, like a shared secret.

He tugs at her waist, starting to lean in.

“Wait!” She pushes against him.

He stops, knitting his eyebrows.

“Look around.” She lifts a finger, making a circular motion.

He glances at the room.

“What?”

“From now on…” She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Whenever you think about this ship, I want you to remember _this_ moment.”

He instantly rolls his eyes.

She bobs on top of him, grinning.

He just shakes his head, leaning in.

“You…” He murmurs between kisses. “Are a _mess_.”

“You know you love it.” Her lips graze his.

“I love _you_.” He cups her cheek. “ _Not_ your mess.”

 “Yes, but the mess is part of me.” She tilts her head. “It’s the wonderful thing about love. It tricks you into loving things you otherwise wouldn’t.”

He doesn’t respond, just curls his fingers behind her neck as he presses his lips to hers, warm and gentle. They start to lose themselves, one kiss blending into the next, then the next…  

Suddenly, Rey snaps back.

“What?” He withdraws.

A second later, his face falls.

He senses her sadness, knows what it means.

She’s getting better at recognizing it, what it feels like just before the bond ends. It’s a kind of severing, like a piece of her just broke off and started to drift away.

She shifts off of him, settling on the seat. Both their hearts drop, filling with an ache they’ve come to know so well.

She gives him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll see you.” She lifts a hand to his face.

But he’s gone by the time she gets there.

She drops her hand, staring at the space where he used to be. She leans forward, placing a palm on the seat, feeling traces of his warmth.

Then she sighs, closing her eyes.

She turns, sitting back against the lounge, her arms falling limply at her side. She hangs her head.

But the next instant, she snaps up.

She’s learned how to deal with this, the loneliness that always follows the bond. Instead of wallowing in it, she reflects, remembers what happened, everything they said, everything they experienced.

She starts at the beginning, when she first felt his presence. What was it she was thinking about…?

That’s right.

She was thinking about Leia, her warning about the road ahead, how she just wanted to shove it all to the side and focus on Ben, how close they’re becoming.

Her lips turn up as she remembers his eyes widening when he saw her, the way he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. She remembers the tangled passion, Daja’s pin at her back, asking him how to tell if someone’s Force-sensitive.

She runs through all of it in her mind, every detail, every nuance, every touch, until she gets to the very end, those final seconds, lost in one another on the lounge seat.

Then, she compares the end to the beginning, what she was thinking about when she felt the bond, what they were doing when it closed.

“Hm.” She shifts forward. She sits still for a minute.

Then she drums her fingers on the table.

She considers the future, where she and Ben are headed, what they’ll have to get through on the way. Tough times are coming… _very_ tough…

But instead of sinking, she smiles.

She sidles to the edge of the seat, then rises, turning to stroll to the captain’s quarters.

There’s still a smile on her lips when she gets there. She presses the panel and walks in, unzipping her dress as she heads straight to the closet. She pulls it off and starts rifling through to find a clean shirt and pants.

But she’s only half paying attention. Her mind is still on the bond, on Ben and their future.

Things will get hard. They always do.

But no matter how bad it gets, they’ll always have what they experienced tonight, their connection, a haven they can escape into and remember why it’s all worth it.

Maybe that’s why the bond brought them together this time. Maybe it was trying to show them how they’ll survive the road ahead, how they’ll make it through all the challenges and the headaches.

She grabs a shirt and pulls it on overhead.

Yes, that must be it.

She grabs a pair of pants, then turns, heading to the bed. She kicks aside Daja’s jacket on the way, glancing around.

They really should clean up in here… 

She starts pulling on her pants, her mind drifting to Daja and Devaronian.

She wrinkles her nose.

 _Poor thing_. She can’t _believe_ Daja’s as good as she is at flirting with that horrible man.

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms.

And it’ll all be for nothing, probably. Even if he agrees to help them tonight, he’ll back out _the moment_ he realizes what’s at risk, everything he could lose.

She sucks in a breath.

_What a waste._

A waste of their time, a waste of their energy…

She looks down, hardening. She stares at the floor for a minute, tense and rigid.

Then she narrows her eyes.

Suddenly, she shoots up and charges for the door. She presses the panel, scurrying down the hall to search for her boots.

 _Ah!_ There’s one.

She retrieves it along with her socks, then looks for the other. She finds it quickly, settling on the lounge to pull her socks on, then her boots.

She tightens the laces, then rises, striding to her pouch. She scoops it up in a single motion, heading for the exit. She presses a panel and the ship creaks open, the ramp descending slowly. She starts down it before it touches the ground, hopping off as she scrounges through her pouch.

She presses the remote to close the ship, not bothering to look back as she charges between the rows of luxury liners. She brings the strap of her pouch overhead, eyes forward, mind fixed on her destination.

She needs to get Daja out of there. There’s no reason for her to suffer for nothing…

They can’t patch up the escape route until they deal with the real problem first.

 _The slavers_.   

Ben’s right. She needs to send them a message, show them they’re not the only ones who can retaliate.

They went after one of her allies. Now she’s going after _them_.

She picks up her pace, moving quickly down the landing deck. She charges through the exit, turning sharply, so focused on the casino she doesn’t notice the boy just below.

She runs right into him and he falls back, hands flying out to catch himself.

“I’m sorry!” She gasps, crouching.

He pushes up, a pang of fear shooting through him.

“It’s ok.” She reaches for him, but he steps back, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She drops her hand.

He continues back, then swings around, running away.

“Wait!” She rises.

The boy halts, stiffening.

Rey walks forward.

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

He looks up, guarded.

“You were with the fathiers when we came to visit today, weren’t you?” She stops beside him.

He just stares.

“That’s a big job, taking care of animals like that.”

He squints, confused, like he’s trying to read her.

Soon, he softens.

Rey smiles, kneeling before him.

“What’s your name?”

His eyes flicker. Now that he’s in front of her, she can see him better, chubby cheeks, messy brown hair peeking out from a worn cap. He can’t be a day older than ten…

He looks down, shuffling his feet.

“Boy,” he finally answers.

“Boy?” She jerks back. “That’s your name?”

He shrugs.

“We’re all boy. Or girl.”

Rey sinks, her heart filling with a mixture of compassion and anger.

 _They can’t even bother to give them_ _names…?_

The boy’s regarding her curiously now, brown eyes soft.

“Have you…?” She purses her lips. “Ever heard of Luke Skywalker?”

He immediately brightens.

“Everyone knows Luke Skywalker.”

She lets out a laugh.

“I guess they do, don’t they?” She studies the boy. “Well…” She leans in. “You look more like a Luke to me.”

He perks up, a smile tugging his lips. He’s clearly pleased by this…

“You…” She looks down. “You’re a slave, aren’t you?” She glances up.

His face falls. He nods once.

Her throat tightens. She lifts a hand, extending it tentatively.

The boy flinches but doesn’t back away.

She touches his cheek, brushing away a bit of dirt.

“Will you do me a favor?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Will you remember me, remember what I look like?” 

He looks confused but nods.

“Good.” She smiles. “Because you’re going to see me again.” She keeps her eyes fixed on his. “And when you do, you won’t be a slave anymore.”

He jerks back, his confusion deepening.

But Rey feels something else too, something lurking beneath the surface…

Hope.

She stares at him, unflinching, surging with resolve.

And that spark of hope in the boy’s chest grows a little stronger.

Her lips turn up.

She winks at him. Then, she rises.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She extends a hand.

He takes it.

“I’ll look forward to meeting you again.” She shakes once, then releases. “In the meantime…” She leans down. “Never stop hoping, ok?”

He stares up, eyes wide, not sure what to make of this.

She reaches for his shoulder, squeezing gently. Then she straightens, stepping around the boy and heading to the stairs leading to the casino.

“See you around, Luke,” she calls back, tossing him a glance over her shoulder.

He just stands, gaping as she walks away.

She barrels up the stairs, reaching the top with a spring in her step. She glides down the open deck, stars twinkling above, casino guests laughing as they stroll by.

Rey hardly notices them.

She’s too lost in her own mind, planning. Something tells her she’ll be up late tonight… She wants to talk things through with Daja, get some ideas.

She’ll be on board, of course. Daja loves a good fight. So many on her team do…

She runs through a catalogue of faces, the ones who will be best for this sort of thing.

She barrels up another flight of stairs.

Yes, she’ll have no trouble putting together a task force. Good thing, too. She wants to move on this quickly, strike before one of the slavers goes after another ally.

She juts her chin up, striding forward.

The slavers think they’ve got her figured out, backed into a corner.

But she’s about to change the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be uploaded on April 19th. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, if you have a moment, I’d like to recommend fic to you guys that I’ve absolutely fallen in love with. It’s anerdobsessed’s “Light Rises… and Darkness to Meet It” series. It’s a role-reversal AU where Luke finds Rey as a child on Jakku and recognizes a potential for darkness. He takes her into his academy in the hopes that he can guide her along another path where, of course, she meets Ben who becomes something like a big brother. They form a strong bond over a shared darkness that they both feel ashamed of and hide from everyone except each other. 
> 
> This is an incredibly satisfying slow burn that spends a lot of time with character development and the writer has a gift for world-building and creating believable OC’s. Her Rey and Ben are very reflective of their in-canon versions, and she finds creative ways to weave parts of the canon story into a retelling of their relationship and bond. Also, her descriptions are just beautiful. The scenes are so vivid they could be movies. 
> 
> This is truly the most underrated fic in the fandom and I promise you won’t be disappointed if you take a few days to get lost in her world. Please check it out and leave her some love in the form of kudos or comments! 
> 
> You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596149/chapters/33734106
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want, you can follow me at https://reyloforcebalance.tumblr.com.


End file.
